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blood-teeth · 10 months

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TMITAWH is 2 years old????!!!!

i cant believe i missed it that sounds so ridiculous to me! in my defense, i was driving for two weeks straight

i don't have anything planned for celebration; i'm so sorry! but i do have some updates!

for those that missed it, tmitawh is now a novel and will no longer be told in an interactive fiction format. this has upset a lot of people. i've lost a lot of followers over this announcement. and i can understand this to some extent, but largely i have to continue to be unapologetic about my choices.

this story is one that has, in every meaning of the phrase, saved my life. writing in this little world has gotten me through some of the darkest times and carried me through to the next day. at some point, IF stopped being a media that was capable of telling the story i wanted to tell.

i'm disheartened by a lot of the anons i've received. some are hateful and unkind. others are upset that they no longer will have the opportunity to pursue Cain or Ezio, and a few mention that they're not interested in reading a lesbian story and will not be reading the book if it ever makes it to publication. i've disregarded the first, but the second cuts the deepest i think.

i have never, ever been shy on this app that i'm a lesbian. i feel as though i've talked endlessly about it. being a lesbian is a huge facet of my identity and being told that, in so many words, a story written for myself, with other queer people in mind, is not for them seems like such a stupid thing to say. like, i didnt write it for you. i wrote it for me. i wrote it for the lesbians who love so violently that they have to hide it away under their clothes, in between their teeth. i wrote it for the lesbians who have been told their love is disgusting, or wrong, or sexy and for a male's pleasure only. i wrote it for the lesbians who are told their love is okay as long as they never show it- as long as they only hold hands at most but never kiss in public. i wrote it for the lesbian who sits in pews and breathes over their hands and wonders if God loves them still.

i'm not sorry to not have written a story catered for you when the whole world is for you. leave me out of your self-absorbed, hateful little orbit.

please know, this blog does not tolerate hatred, bigotry, or harassment in any shape or form. and if you're going to fuck around with me, you sure as hell are going to find out with me.

on a more positive note!

i want to thank you all who have been overwhelmingly positive and supportive of my endeavors!! it means the absolute world to me!! i sometimes hold myself at night and think of all the kind words y'all have sent over these past two years and just sob. never in my life before this could i have imagined sharing my work with people who give a shit and care. it warms me in ways i cannot begin to describe. i love you and i hope you are well as always. my inbox/dms are open ANYTIME if you just want to chat, catch up, rant to me, or tell me about your pet. actually, please tell me about your pet.

Some quick publishing updates:

I'm 20k words out of 90k into draft 2. and i think this is going to be the last draft before i query (?????) i'm really very happy with the muscles and bones of the manuscript. now it's just some meticulous line editing i have to work through.

after this, i'm off to the query trenches. (im scared) if anybody has gone through this process before and has any tips, i'd love to hear them!

here's a little excerpt:

"She grabs hard enough to make sure of her presence, not enough to bruise. Some sick part of the Traveler’s brain says, Yes. Please. More. Press deeper. Press harder. Bruise me. Hurt me. She delights in the heat that blossoms from where the Reverie digs her fingers into skin. Eyes earnest, stubborn disposition to her jaw as the thick muscle there flickers in an implication of anger. “I will find you,” she’s shaping her tongue into a dagger at the Traveler’s throat. “I will find you again, and that is a promise.” The Traveler gasps, tilting her head higher. She blinks and— The Reverie’s mouth is on hers, hot and aching, and the Traveler blinks— Want flavors the Traveler’s tongue, the Reverie’s hands pressed tightly against her collarbone, teeth at her jaw. She blinks and— Is this Before or After?"

i also, stupidly, have officially started a twitter that i want to start working with. i know twitter is dead, but it remains to be very useful for publishing. if you'd like to follow me, im there on @ morganhollow25. i dont know how to use it. im scared to use it. but if you have a twitter maybe follow me there too! i absolutely plan to be on tumblr primarily. i love it here and have grown a tiny home in these webs.

i'll have more updates coming soon regarding FTMTB and other works. thank you all again <3

#long post #long update #update #tmitawh #tell me if there's a way home #this was a lot more lecture-y than i meant it to be #but i dont think i said anything unnecesary #writeblr

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fatmasc · 1 year

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do u have any tips for finding good plus sized clothes/accessories while thrifting? :) love ur blog

MAKE YOURSELF HARD TO KILL. Dont get discouraged when you cant find something, its going to happen no matter what.

KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, KEEP AN OPEN MIND. If im shopping for docs and i find sketchers instead that look similar and fit well, im getting them. I did that exactly one time. Explore both the mens and womens sections, explore the vintage, explore the housewares. Leave no stone unturned

KNOW WHERE TO SHOP. When i thrifted in my college town i would rarely find anything ever. I got lucky maybe once or twice every few months. The coveralls and boots in my recent photos are from a thrift store in wyoming. I dont live in wyoming, but that thrift store always has stuff in my size and i know i can spare an hour and a half drive for a decent shopping trip

THRIFT ONLINE. my trench is from mercari, as is most of my vintage jewelry. I shop ebay frequently for band shirts but ebay is way less reliable for actual thrifting. Plus online is easy to find ur size and filter by it

DIY OR DIE. find something you like but its the wrong color? Dye it. The hems are too long or short? Easy sewing fix. Theres a hole in it? Learn to mend and patch. Too tight in one area? Cut it open. Refer back to know what you want, keep an open mind

GIVE BACK. Us fat ppl love to hoard clothes, but contribute to the cycle of plus size thrifting. Someone may be looking for the clothes you dont wear and should give away. Feed the fat thrifitng ecosystem

#ask #good luck!!

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bentobarnes · 2 years

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next chapter / series masterlist

⤿ word count : 1.8k

⤿ summary of the chapter : just a day of your life with bucky in a peaceful town after you both retire from being avengers

⤿ poems/songs used : taylor swift - love story ; brian bilston - first date ; isaac rosenberg - in the trenches ; robert frost - nothing gold cant stay

⤿ note : excited to finally post my new series! i hope you all enjoy them 🥰

warnings : just fluff

*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡

We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

I'm standin' there

On a balcony in summer air

See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

See you make your way through the crowd

And say, "Hello"

Little did I know…

You and Bucky were walking down the clear path, the smell of spring was filling the air as the grass was softly brushed by the sun rays. It was peaceful, although many people were out at that time. Some were reading books, kids were playing with their dog in the flower field, couples were having picnics.

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

Bucky’s metal fingers were tangled with yours as you both enjoyed the sunny day. Spring was coming after one of the coldest winters you have ever had and a little warmness was always sought. The vibranium felt warm against your palm, that’s how strong the sun was that day, melting away the coldness of his foreverly cold hand.

I got tired of waiting

Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around

My faith in you was fading

When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone

I keep waiting for you, but you never come

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think

He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring

And said, "Marry me, Juliet

You'll never have to be alone

I love you and that's all I really know

I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

You put the picnic basket away to help Bucky lie the red and white squired blanket on the short grass. Daisies and dandelions were are all around, the tiny dandelion seeds flying away when you both crashed down onto the cover.

So I sneak out to the garden to see you

We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

So close your eyes

Escape this town for a little while

Playing on your piano, you were thrown out of your trans by James’s heavy steps from behind you. Your hair was carefully braided into a side fishbone by him in the morning, cozy clothes gently touching your skin.

“Hey, doll! Have you seen my notebook?” Bucky asked, putting his palms against your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. Turning around to face him, you were greeted by his working “uniform” consisting of a black suit and white shirt.

“You have thousands of notebooks, Buck! Which one?” You chuckled and stood up to check the table in the kitchen.

“The thick black one with the white label.” He explained. “I can’t find it anywhere, and I really needed it cause I wanted to publish some of the stuff in it.”

Putting your fist under your chin, you furrowed your brows in confusion as you were thinking where to find the notebook and then it suddenly clicked.

“It’s in the laundry room! I was washing your bag and that little brain of yours never checks what's in it before washing!” You exclaimed and made your way to the room with him right behind you.

“Hey, don’t talk to me like that! Do you want me to remind you who gave the wrong painting to the buyer?” Bucky joked and a giggle left his mouth as he saw you turn around and give him a death stare.

When you opened the door to the laundry room, your gaze fell on the black notebook sitting on the counter. Taking it in your hands, you quickly opened it on a random page. You landed on a title called “10.04.2016”

“Oh my god! Wait! Isn’t this when we first went on a date?” You questioned and showed him the page.

“It is, yeah… I wrote it back then and I really wanted you to see it published as a surprise.” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh, Buck! That’s the best surprise! Can I read it now though?” You pounded making puppy eyes. He have you a reassuring nod to do so.

We had so much in common, that was clear from the start.

A marriage of souls.

For a first date, our connection seemed almost irrational.

You told me you like New York, rainy days and cats

I shouted “Me too! How perfect is that?”

Your favorite book, you confessed, was The Hobbit

I cried, “I love it!” I would buy it, once I’d got back.

“I love this…” Your voice cracked, tears running down your cheeks as you wiped them furiously. He took your face in his palms.

“I love you from the moment I first met you. God, you were soo badass kicking Tony’s ass that I couldn't stop imagining you with a ring on your hand. This ring.” He took your hand in his, finger running over the emerald stone of your engagement ring and the golden band of your wedding one.

“Bucky Barnes, you hit the jackpot with me!” You laughed. “I love you too, James.”

You were painting in front of your house. There was that little patch full of flowers and bright green grass. Your house had a nice view of the quiet road and the colorful houses down the street. You liked your neighbors. Most of them were artists just like you and Bucky and they turned their world into a canvas.

“What are we drawing today?” Your neighbor asked, looking at your canvas. She was a middle-aged woman with middle-length blond hair. Everything about her was in the middle, even her house, which was half the size of the others. But she liked it this way.

“Well, James surprised me earlier with a poem written for me so I’m gonna return the favor.” You explained and the woman blushed at how romantic your husband is. “I’m painting something like the Wanderer above the Sea of Fog but the wanderer is actually Bucky and the sea is The Shire from Hobbit.” Gesturing every detail with your painting brush, the woman swallowed all the information.

“You guys are definitely winning couple of the year!” She giggled. “Can I make you some company? I made some lemonade!”

“I would love to, Lilith!” You smiled and waited for her to bring some cold strawberry lemonade.

Bucky opened the door to his cabinet. It was one of the few ancient-looking buildings. It looked dark from the outside and that darkness traveled on the inside too. Everything was in deep brown colors but he loved it. It gave mystery to the place and it was no wonder why the local publishing was located in this building.

His cabinet consisted of a big desk with tons of papers all over it, making the bankers' lamp stand like a lighthouse in a sea of paper. Against the walls, there were bookshelves full of heavy books and a few pictures of you and him in between, here and there. The light was coming only from the window behind his desk.

“James? Can I speak with you, please?” An editor came in and Bucky gestured him to sit on the free stool in front of his desk. "I edited your poem and I have to say this is my new favorite from you. Here, I hope everything is okay with it.”

I grabbed two poppies

From the ledge of the railing,

Two bright red poppies

That winked at the ledge.

Behind my ear

I stabbed one,

A blood-red poppy

I gave you.

What do you see in our eyes

At the shrieking iron and flame

Hurled through still heavens?

What quaver—what heart aghast?

Poppies whose roots are in man’s veins

Drop, and are ever dropping;

But mine in my ear is safe—

Just a little white with the dust.

“It looks great! I love the red part and it will fit perfectly in the newspaper and in my book later!” Bucky looked at the piece of paper one last time, admiring his work before giving it back to the editor.

Bucky opened the front door of your shared home, seeing you in that cute flowy dress you usually wore at home when you were painting. Automatically a smile grew on his face.

“I have a surprise for you! Close your eyes!” You cheered and excitedly smacked his shoulder.

“Okay! Okay! They are closed!” He giggled and allowed you to take his metal arm and lead the way.

“You can open them now! Tadaa!” You pulled the sheet away from the canvas and reviewed the beautiful mixture of colors. They made shapes, figures, and views combining them into one full picture.

“Is this for me?” He asked in awe, his mouth fully open as he examined the masterpiece in front of him. “Baby, you outdid yourself on this one! I love it soo much!”

“Thank God! I was wondering if you would like it since you outdid yourself with that poem!” Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him close for a sweet kiss.

“Can I put it in my office?” Bucky queried as he pulled away from your lips.

“Of course! It’s for you, after all, baby.” You kissed the corner of his lips before pushing yourself away from him.

“Hey, where are you going?” He followed your trails and stopped at the kitchen table. Bucky was welcomed by the light of the candles and the tasty smelling meal, waiting for him.

“Okay, you really outdid yourself this time, my love!” His arms snaked around your waist, his lips tenderly brushing over the soft skin of your neck.

You were eating the food you had prepared, listening to the music played by the record player. No matter what, Bucky was your old man and he did like a lot the older version of things. That’s why you had so much in common. Even if you were a lot younger than him, your soul was old as his and you often found yourself thinking about the days he has always told you stories about.

When you hear those stories you ask yourself: “What if we met back then?”. The answer of course was the usual “I would still have fallen in love with you.”

You wished there was a way to travel back in time and just spend your life in those days.

There was a way and Steve did it but there was no place for you and Bucky there. You have a place now, though. After years of fighting, you retired as an Avenger and found a quiet town in which you could live with the love of your life.

At least for now.

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down today

Nothing gold can stay.

End of chapter 1

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narnie3313 · 4 years

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Let Me Burn-Chapter 2

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Eventual Smut

Warnings: Language, Violence, Explicit,etc....

Summary: The moment you saw those piercing eyes in the corner of the club, you knew you were hooked. There was never a question about it…You knew this man would burn you, yet you embraced the flames.

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“It’s you….who are you? Why were you watching me? Who are you? What did you have to do with all this?” At this point you didn’t care that you were rambling and repeating yourself, you were too lost to care.

“I wont hurt you. I put you in the room so you didn’t get hurt. I’ll ex….”

“YOU put me in the room? Why? When? Why don’t I remember?”

“If you’ll shut up for a minute I’ll explain everything but I need to get out of here and I want you to follow me. If you don’t, you wont get your answers and you’ll never see me again.” Without another word he turns around and steps towards the door.

Shit. I don’t need to be involved in this. But I need to know what happened…I need to know who he is. You turn and quickly snatch up your belongings and follow after him. The front door is gone….a hole where it used to be. That must be what the explosions were before the blue light… You walk out into the cold night air, feeling it more than usual because you would usually be drunk going home so wouldn’t feel the cold breeze. You try to stifle your shiver as you follow the tall man in the black trench coat. What the hell am I thinking. This guy looks like a textbook serial killer or some shit….my mother would kill me. You sigh and shake your head. But something about him feels….safe? He saved you from whatever happened in there and those eyes of his hold too many secrets that you cant walk away without unravelling. I need to know.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been walking but you keep about 5 paces behind him at all times. It’s not until he stands in a side alley holding a door open and staring straight into your soul again that you notice you’re far away from the regular bright lights and busy streets of the city. He looks from you to the door as if telling you to go inside. You slowly move towards him and look straight into his eyes questioningly then move inside the door and look around. It’s not what you expected at all. You’re led off the street down a short hallway into an elevator where he presses the highest number. As the elevator begins moving, you can feel his stare on you while you’re just looking at your hands. You allow your gaze to move up his body towards his eyes, admiring the body under his open coat. Tight jeans show the curves of his calves and his muscular thighs but his loose singlet shows his collarbones and strong neck. Moving up to his face, you notice his scars, once again feeling drawn to them as if they were magnetic to you. Paying close attention to every one of the staples in his skin, your eyes move to stare into those endless blue pools again only to find him trailing his gaze over your body that you had all but forgotten was only covered in a skimpy black dress.

“Enjoying the view?” You ask with a roll of your eyes, hoping he’ll ignore the fact that you’d just been doing the same thing to him.

“Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart.” He says with a small smirk as his eyes come back to meet yours.

“Where are we? Where are we going?”

“One of my safehouses. You wanted answers so I’ll give them to you. But I had to get out of there before the cops and heroes got there.”

“What are you, some kinda hit man or some shit? What normal person needs a safe house?” You say as the elevator doors open with a ding.

“I’ll answer anything you ask soon. You’re cold and still in that little dress so go take a shower first and I’ll set some clothes out on the bed for you to warm up first. When you’re done, come out and we’ll talk.”

“You’re serious? 1. I don’t know where those clothes have been. 2. I’m not just gonna get naked in a strangers apartment and 3. I don’t even know who you are.”

“You don’t have to trust me but you’re safe here. Why would I save you just to hurt you? Seems like a waste of time don’t you think?” He says with a tone of disinterest.

“I guess…” You say as you walk away into the bathroom he pointed to. You couldn’t deny, you were really, really cold. The winter air on the street certainly hadn’t done you any favours.

You spent longer than you care to admit searching every possible spot for a camera or something suspect but gave up when you found nothing. You got in the shower only after making sure the door was locked like 3 times and allowed the hot water to warm your cold body. Once you were done, you wrapped yourself in the fluffy towel and unlocked the door to peek into the bedroom to see if he was waiting for you. Surprisingly he wasn’t….although not all that surprising. Despite the abnormal appearance that may have frightened anyone else, you weren’t phased by the scars….they weren’t what drew you in, and for some unexplainable reason, the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you were a goner.

Warm and dressed into a set of what you guessed were a pair of his sweatpants and hoodie, you walked cautiously out the bedroom door and entered a large, open plan living room/ kitchen surrounded by large windows over looking a dark part of the city. You weren’t sure exactly how high you were but you could see where the city centre was from the bright lights a few blocks away. You looked around for the mysterious man you’d allowed yourself to be taken by…I can’t even say he kidnapped me. Damn it y/n, why do you make stupid choices? Why are you like this? You place the ball of your hand in your eye socket and throw you head back in frustration. You’d made stupid, dangerous mistakes before but they paled in comparison to this. This takes the cake.

“You know,” that husky voice sounds from to your right, sitting in an arm chair watching you. “Most women wouldn’t follow a strange man home. Do you have a deathwish?”

“I don’t know. I needed answers about what happened and….” You look back down to your hands.

“And…?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“And……I can’t explain it but….I feel safe with you. Your eyes tell me there’s more to you.”

Your eyes are still on your hands in your lap so you miss the way his eyes widen with shock at your words.

“I’ll answer whatever you want honestly.”

You’re not even sure what to ask first. You look up at him through your lashes. “Why did you save me from….whatever it was that happened back there?”

“I don’t actually know. Something about the way I was drawn to you the whole night and then the way you approached me and touched me without even a touch of fear in your expression….I knew I had to see you again.”

Your face flushed at that. “Ok, so, you were watching me the whole night?”

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off you, doll.” The way the name rolled off his tongue had your body heating up from within your core as his eyes noticed the change in your breathing and smirked.

“Ok….then….who are you exactly?”

“Dabi.” Your heart sank as each syllable of the name rattled in your brain. Dabi. You’d seen that name on the news. Extremely dangerous, do not approach. Yet here you were sitting in his living room. Your eyes widen slightly, not knowing exactly how to react. The news articles never specified what he was wanted for, just that he was dangerous. But this man in front of you seemed so…..soft? Despite his appearance he just radiated gentle vibes. What the hell is actually wrong with you, y/n? First thing, 9am, I’m booking a therapist.

“I’m guessing by that reaction, you know who I am.” He sits forward, slouching and resting his elbows on his knees at that statement. You shake your head gently. “No?”

You look up at him with gentle yet cautious eyes. “Well, I mean…I’ve seen you on the news. Wanted and dangerous was all they say so no, I don’t actually know who you are, I just know OF you.”

He can’t help but smile at that. “Hmm.” He sighs, leaning back lazily in his chair. “You’re interesting. You know my name and that I’m wanted for reasons unknown to you but bad enough that they say my name more than twice a day on national television, yet you’re still here, sitting in front of me, without running or looking at me in horror. Why?”

“Well, all I can think about is how you’ve had literally every chance to hurt me but you haven’t. You could have in the club, but you put me in the room away from whatever happened there. You could have while I was looking in the locker. You strike me as the kind of person that would be quiet enough on your feet not to get caught if you didn’t want to be. You had heaps of chances while walking the dark, empty streets here. Hell, you even had me in your bathroom and bedroom where no one would have ever known where I went and you still did nothing except offer me a shower and clothes… I don’t think you want to hurt me. Then again,” you say throwing your hands up and shrugging, “maybe there’s bigger, more torturous plans for me.” You say with a giggle as you watch him smile slightly. “Look, I don’t know why you’re being nice to me or whatever, but thank you. The next question I have is, what actually happened to the club? And why did I pass out while watching you?”

“Both questions I don’t think you’re going to like the answers to.”

“I need to know.”

“Ok. The club was broken into and robbed by the team I’m involved in. That club was actually a front for a black market. They had the biggest stash of priceless stolen items in the city in their cellars. My group needed the money so we took what we could grab and destroyed the rest of the club as a message to the owner. As for why you got passed out, I’m sure you would have been hot from the dancing and the body heat of the dance floor and its not uncommon for people to pass out from heatstroke in events like that, but I’m pretty sure what sent you over the edge was my flames.” As he says the last word, he rotates a hand to rest on his knee palm side up as a small blue flame dances in his palm. “My flames burn way, way hotter than most so it would have knocked you out since you were so close.”

You were mesmerised by the flickering blue light in his palm still, until he noticed your dazed expression and closed his hand into a fist, extinguishing the flames. Shaking your head, you look back at him. “So that’s what the blue light was?” He nods. “Ok. There’s one more question, but I’m afraid to ask.”

“You want to know what happened to all the people in the club.”

You can only bring yourself to nod, still looking into those glowing blue eyes.

“The flames I released that you saw were aimed for gas canisters being thrown above the crowd. The gas knocked everyone out. Another one of the group teleported all the people into separate areas of the city except for the owner and the people in on the market. When we got what we needed, I used my flames to torch everything that could indicate we’d been there without letting them spread to the outside so no one showed up until daylight.”

“You’re very calculated. What happens to me now? You said you saved me because you had to see me again… but what does that mean? What do you want with me?”

“I don’t actually know about that yet. I’m not evil. I don’t do things just to kill and maim people and I certainly don’t want to hurt you. I can let you walk away and return to your day to day life since I know nothing you could say to anyone would get me caught anyway, but you’re interesting. I want to unravel you.” Keeping his eyes on you, he stands up and takes 3 large steps towards you, stopping when his toes meet yours. His hand reaches out to your face as his thumb and forefinger cup your chin, tilting your head back slightly. “I want to know what’s going on in that brain of yours…” He leans down till you can feel his breath on your ear, causing goosebumps. “I want to know what makes you tick.”

Now, you couldn’t deny this man was enticing, for lack of a better word, but you also weren’t easy. No matter how hot this man was, you still knew he was dangerous and weren’t about to give it up that easy.

Placing your hands softly on his chest you pushed while leaning back to put some space between you, just enough to give him a smirk. “You’ll have to work a lot harder than that.” With that, he stood back upright and chuckled.

Author note: Ok, chapter 2 is up. I’m currently working on chapter 3 but will also be off grid this weekend (8th August - 10th August) so next chapter should be mid next week but don’t hold me to that. As always, let me know what you think as feedback is always extremely appreciated! Thanks for reading!

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #mha #fanfiction

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steponmepinkjun · 3 years

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I NEVER FINISHED MY STORY OMG. ok so i left off at being too proud to tell my friend she was right and kpop fucked hard. the difference between u and me is that i’m too good of a liar. too good. i kept up the “i hate kpop it’s cringe” facade for ALMOST TWO WHOLE YEARS, I SHIT YOU NOT. why? bc my dumb ass, extra ass, dramatic ass self thought “ok if i’m gonna have to deal with the embarrassment of admitting i’m wrong, i better do it in such an extra ass way it’ll knock ur socks off so hard that YOULL be the one embarrassed not me.” the original plan was to learn the entire choreography to bts dope, bc it’s the song that she told me to listen to and inevitably the song that got me into them, but later switched to bts fire bc i saw too many of those “choreo matches w any song” videos, and then her birthday party came up. and here’s the real kicker. her birthday is April Motherfuckin Fools. so it would be So Perfect for me to reveal my kpopism as a birthday present And a april fools prank in one. so i was Set on the Reveal being on april 1st, but the day rolls around and god that choreo is so fucking hard and i am Not a dancer. never have been. so i abandon that and go ykno what… i’ll do it Next Year. BC MY BITCHASS WAS LIKE NO THE MOMENT IS TOO PERFECT TO DO IT ON A NORMAL ASS DAY ITS GONNA BE ON APRIL FOOLS ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY OR NOT AT ALL. a year rolls by, i’ve told most of our friends except her and they’re all in on it, i’d made so many subtle kpop references to her without her realising they were fully intentional and had too many scares where she almost figured me out but i lied my way out of it, and i’d given up on showing off with choreography bc i couldn’t make that shit look good. i’m not a dancer. i am, however, a rapper, and a damn good one, so i inhaled the agust d mixtape and decided i’d just rap the eminem of kpop’s anthem at her face. in korean. and change the lyrics at the end (if u haven’t listened to agust d, the bridge repeats “i’m sorry” a lot) to “i’m sorry i kept this from u for so long” and “i’m sorry i actually ult got7 not bts” (this was like the april after skz debuted ok i was holding onto got7 for dear life knowing full well skz we’re going to convert me smh) and the best part? she never saw it coming. her official present was a cd with a bunch of kpop on it but she thought it was just a personalised mixtape for her so i told her to play the first song out loud and she knew the song Instantly. it has a long intro so she was like “i guess u did listen when i recommended u this song!! i knew you’d like it since u like rap so much!!” and then i started rapping and i shit u not. she started SCREAMING. like the initial reaction was her jaw dropping and then instinctively covering her mouth but when i kept going and she realised i wasn’t fucking around she just fucking screamed like a banshee. at the end during the sorry bit i threw off my jacket to reveal a got7 shirt on the inside and she fell off her chair and started rolling around on the floor. needless to say it was every bit as satisfying as i thought it’d be LMAOOOO afterwards her ass was like “I CANT BELIEVE U HID THIS FROM ME FOR OVER A YEAR” and when i tried to explain my ego couldn’t take the “i told u so” she was like “you know i wouldn’t have made fun of you for it right? i would just be glad you’re not hating on my boys anymore” so basically i’m a big dramatic fool and she was always too good for me.

don’t mind the weird spaces here my ipad is being all fucky wucky w me rn. damn sad to hear ur sideblog experience didn’t go so well, i’d have shown u the cool side of the fandom if i knew 😤😤 leading u thru the cursed halls of kpop stan tumblr like a sketchy tour guide that’s actually 3 small raccoons stacked on top of each other like a trench coat, like “over here we have the fanfic writers that honestly need to publish a book, over here we have the gif makers that are responsible for my entire camera roll, if we take a quick swerve past the death threat anons and the twt fanwar screenshots - mind ur feet bub the 14 year olds were tryna make a grab for ur ankles - ah here’s the holy grail of shitposts, you might be here for hours, to the right we have the weird aussie side of the fandom that projects our childhoods onto chanlix but also all the members as we decide what their life in australia would’ve been like, and down there is a secret trapdoor to the blogs w endless random headcanons that will make you laugh, cry or blush depending on if the author woke up and decided to choose violence today. enjoy your Stay!” but then again i’m not so active on tumblr anymore (ngl you’ve become the highlight of my tumblr experience these days, interaction wise,) so maybe all my Local Hotspots are inactive now. i know a bunch of them are, it’s sad. “i don’t fw stan twitter for the same reason i don’t hang out in meth dens” oop. guess i’m a meth addict. no but i get u i rly do, it’s a hellhole out there, but the fact that things get shared and spread a lot easier than on tumblr and how short most things have to be (therefor keeping up w my adhd attention span without having to resort to the mental torture that is tiktok, with the added bonus of not always needing headphones.) that i just. couldn’t leave if i tried. maybe i should try being active on tumblr again but it’s a dying site in comparison.

“their music doesn’t consistently hit for me as much as skz” i’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore. what. what. you don’t dramama ramama ramama hey? you don’t feel a little jealousyyyyyy, naega anin? you don’t shoot out, shoot out, shoot out, or aremdaeun love killa love killa? you can’t be your hero du du du du du du du du du dududu? u disappoint me. literally like everyone i know who likes skz music likes mx music like it’s a rite of Passage. they’re kindred spirits, monsta x music is like skz’s music’s cool but mildly heterosexual older brother. neither of them know what a bad song is it runs in the family. and both their music runs in my VEINS. whenever i describe my music taste they’re always the first two that come to mind, skz being my number 1 bc they are my best boys but mx bc of the Flavour. pls listen to the entire the code album then get back to me 😤🙌 ok but fr ur so right they are 7 of the finest men i ever seen (yes i say 7 bc i’m including wonho cause he deserved better and i’ll die on my ot7 bullshit.) like don’t get me started on them either LOL i LITERALLY downloaded that one insta video of changkyun working out his back n arm muscles w his tattoo showing bc i needed that shit saved for Science. they could do Anything w me like frfr. yes vixx is the bdsm contract group i’m telling ya they wildin. or at least they were. it’s been years since their last comeback idk what they’re doing anymore tbh. and yeah that makes sense, savouring the hyperfixation i feel it, but also i’m so attached to skz that i never let it die. like i hyperfixate on other things and other groups but i will Always go back to skz cause they’re my homeboys. hell, they’re my home. being a predebut stay i’ve spent more time w skz than most of my actual family members at this point. but that’s just me you do u boo xx just know that if ur anything like me ur never letting go once skz it’s been my longest lasting fixation cause they hit like Nothing Else Do. ik i’ve already said that but i cannot stress it enough. they’re really special. i’m gonna stop here before i get all sappy and emotional bc i really love those boys so fucking much and i don’t drop the L bomb often. SIDE NOTE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE UR LIST OF GROUPS RANKED BY THORSt. i need to judge ur Taste. and omg cat&dog is such a guilty pleasure song bc the lyrics make me cringe so much bc while pet play can be fun they be doing it in more of an “i’m an innocent soft dogboy uwu” kinda way that just Does Not Sit Right with me. it comes back to the objectifying of asians that asians themselves don’t help in industries like these and maybe i’m looking too far into it when rly it is just wholesome n cute or maybe they are into some pet play shit idk idc i will bop to the song regardless but i will not acknowledge the lyrics nope.

YOURE RIGHT THO SKZ’S OPENNESS IS IN FACT, A BIG DEAL, i’ll grab them for u if u want but i found these twt threads of skz supporting the lgbt community and i just felt a special kind of happiness man like sure the delusional part of me likes going “haha they’re gay” bc my brain likes to imagine them as my polycule of mlm boyfriends bc sometimes thats what gives me the serotonin to get me thru the day ok don’t judge but also bc it’s nice knowing that yes i’ll never know them personally, but at least i can support them knowing they’d respect my gender identity and my pronouns, they’d respect who i choose to love, and that’s already more than the general public can say so shit, it is special! it’s special that they don’t treat being cishet like the norm - they constantly remove gender from their songs and speech entirely, they don’t assume all stays are female anymore, we don’t talk abt the babygirls incident cause we got babystays in the end outta that ok, and it’s just. so refreshing and important to me bc i can’t get that anywhere else!! like my semi ults are the boyz and while i love them very much and there’s no way all 11 of them are straight i refuse, i do get just a little bit sad whenever they she/her their fandom by default and call them their girlfriends n shit even tho i do still identify as a girl, i’m also genderfluid/nonbinary/transmasc, and i have a very love/hate relationship w my womanhood and rarely use she/her pronouns, cause it’s like, do you not see me? see us? the ones who aren’t cishet women? i mean i know kevin does bc he congratulated a fan who came out as nb but it’s just not the same as the openness we get w skz. like how do i trust cishets i could be supporting them as a queer person when in reality they’d call me a slur. what would i know, behind the screen? so it’s so good that skz go the extra mile to make it a safe space for everyone. this is already long enough i will reply to the second half of that ask in another message… tomorrow cause it’s 1am and i’m tired gn -felix bi anon

I'mma have to start putting these under a readmore so that i don't absolutely make everything who is still following me for some reason go totally fucking insane 😂

NDJDHWJJAHFNAKBSJSBFBHHDBDNAJD YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE FACES I WAS MAKING READING THIS, I WAS FUCKING CACKLING AND GASPING EVERY OTHER SENTENCE SO HARD THAT I SCARED THE CATS NDJWHSHSB the fact that you went "oh you want me to get into kpop? Give me a hot minute, and I'll give you a whole ass private concert for free" biduehsjdbd biiiiiiiiiiitch you're a fucking ICON, I stg I could NEVER 😂 (and not just because I couldn't find a tune if you gave me a printed set of Google maps directions and that I embody the steriotype that white people can't dance, like my sister kept sensing me tiktoks of the whole "dance like a white girl" trend going lmfao look it's you and eventually I was like "sis please this trend has me feeling like being white is a disability and these mothafuckers are being ableist 😭 also I could NEVER be that on beat so yall ain't even doin it right 😭😭😭😭"). Tbh if I told one of my friends (lol what friends, i got jokes) to get into Skz and they showed up at my bday and performed the entirety of I Got It I would simply shower them in money and go "aight everyone else go home, you are no longer needed, you are being laid off, your position has been eliminated, we're downsizing, the company is moving up and you're moving out, you are not qualified for this role any longer, best of luck with future endeavors" 😊

I think part of the reason I can't deal w Twitter is the exact reason I refuse to leave tumblr, in that I've been on tumblr since 2006 and twt since 2008, and tumblr literally has not changed at all, not even a little, whereas going from the early days of twt where there were no corporate sponsorships or ads and you had to manually copy and paste someone's tweet and @ them to retweet it, to how it is now, like 90% ads and showing me shit from the timelines of people I don't even fuckin follow n whatnot, it's just not enjoyable. Idk how anyone finds anything on twt, it confuses and frustrates me because I am old and have not adapted well to technology changing 😂 But arguably, the skz fanbase doesn't want me on skztwt anyways so like it works for both of us lmfaooo. I am old and cringey, and also still think of twt as stream of consciousness whereas tumblr is your teenage bedroom where you can decorate the walls with anything that interests you. I do really love the nonsensical kpoptwt shitposts tho fhshsbdjjss like it is a very specific flavor of mental instability that I enjoy immensely 😂 OH and also I initially misread part of that and thought you were saying you actually irl do meth and I was like 😳 WHAT DO I SAY TO THAT. HOW DO I HANDLE THIS. Like how do I express like "I wasn't being judgy of people who use substances cause I've been there but I was just being insensitive 😳" And then went back and reread it and was like WHEW, IM JUST AN ILLITERATE FOOL 😂😂😂😂 ejeywhdhrhjwbfbdjshdhdhd I spent like an hour bwign like "IS THE REASON WE GET ALONG BECAUSE THEY'RE ON METH???? WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS INFORMATION??????" hrhehshe I am literally a fuckin idiot it's fine

It's not that I don't fw them, it's more like... Okay so like there is no situation in which I am going to skip a skz song if it comes on shuffle. You will not ever catch me NOT in the mood to listen to Sunshine, if God's Menu comes on we are THROWIN the meager amount of booty meat I got hither and thither, I could be in the happiest mood of my life but if Ex comes on I will stop to SOB. And I'm not like that with most music, so mx just falls into the category of "there is a time and place." Idk why but it just doesn't forcibly grab hold of my heart and ass the way skz always does. I really don't WANT my skz fixation to ever end, but I know that eventually it'll stop giving me dopamine bevause my brain is my worst fucking enemy 🙃 like my arcana fixation is to date the longest running hyperfixation I've ever had, going on almost three years, and I used to not be able to spend every single second of every day thinking about Asra, but now... I just feel nothing when I look at arcana stuff. As you can probz tell by the fact that I hardly post arcana anymore 😂 So I know that eventually all my happiness will end, it always does, I can never stay just as obsessed with something as I was for long. I CANT SHARE THE LIST BECAUSE I DONT *HAVE* TASTE YET 😭 I'm basically just compiling a list of any group someone tells me I should look into, ranked by how strong the kitty purred upon googling pics of them 😂 My mom read my ass to FILTH over txt lmfao she was like "they're not that adorable. Maybe your standard for adorableness has gone down with You Know Who still on hiatus 🤔" bfjwhdhd like MOMMAAAAA THE LIBRARY IS CLOSED 😂 she attacks me any time I even hint at stanning other groups, she is a skz purist and stans skz only, unofficial Momma Stay of All Stays keeping me in check lmfao.

I feel like skz really do follow thru on their promise that they're a safe space for stays, it's nice to see that they hold space for anyone and everyone in their fanbase and do it in a really simple and elegant way, I feel. Like they never make it seem like "okay here are the fans and here are the token weirdos that were only recognizing to make a buck off of them" the way a lot of artists make it feel like 😑 like they don't go out of their way to act like it's some revolutionary act to do the bare minimum of not shitting on certain parts of the fandom, if that makes sense. They feel very "yeah, of course we love all our stays, this is a welcoming space for literally anyone, that's how it should be, that should be normal," instead of like "Hi fans we love you 😊 and special shoutout to you ell gee bee tee folk, make sure to buy my rainbow merch after the show!!!" you know? Like, they're the friends who would never make you feel weird or different for some shit, the friends that take the attention off you if something they know ur sensitive about comes up, instead of weirdly snapping at whoever brought the unfomfy thing up which ruins the mood and makes you feel tiwce as bad, yk? They just give off this vibe that they, and the space they create with their music, is just a genuine and chill place to be and hang out and relax and bond. I feel like they'd be the friend group that is so goofy and sweet and silly and accepting and lovely and always makes you feel loved and excited to be alive 🥺 They are all good noodles 🥺🥺🥺

#felix-bi-anon #asksteppie

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killed-by-cas-confession · 3 years

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A ficlet thing I wrote when I was having an anxiety attack from my GAD. Dean’s been kidnapped by witches and thrown under a spell after the events of 15x18 (with the bonus that Jack rescued Cas from the empty but... ya know, Cas comes back to the bunker ofc) (That anxiety ficlet I mentioned that I was contemplating adding more plot to. Still might do that and throw it on AO3 but I’m focusing on my Season 16 fix-the-unmentionable-finale-that-doesn’t-exist-fic so maybe later) I just have it on my phone and edited it sloppily because I want it out somewhere, so I’m throwing it on here. TW: Anxiety attack and the thoughts one has during one, Canon compliant Violence mentions, John Winchester mention, Self Worth issues. Not beta-read, barely proofread.

His heart is going a mile a minute. Its pounding in his ears, bashing against the inside of his skull like a jackhammer. His breaths are shallow, quick, too quick, too much.

It's all too similar to the buruburu case in Colorado, taunted by his mind about his time in hell, about returning, after he was saved by an angel, by god he wishes he could be saved by that angel again.

Please. Please. Someone save me, please-

It's all too much, it's too much, it's too similar to those years spent in the pit, the torture he suffered, and it won’t stop, won’t stop, please stop-

Time somehow is passing at a crawl and a mile a minute. His throat feels tight, like he’s being choked, and he has been, so many times before, but then he could fight against it and now, despite how much he cries out, only half aware of every plea that leaves his lips, they simply hang in the empty, foreboding space. Every assault on his mind comes like he's thumbing through a flip book, the images intense and gone as quickly as they came only to be replaced by ones just as hellish as the last.

He simply exists, thrashing and falling in this agonizing space, in this spell-induced hell, this anxiety filled pit.

He sees John one minute, hears his angry yells. He can feel every punch and kick and breaking of bones he’s ever taken the next minute, and then, then he's seeing the faces of all the monsters he's ever almost died to, the animalistic rage behind them; something twisted and evil and gnarled and aimed right at him-

He can see the pit, feel the rip and tear of hell hound claws that dragged him down. He may as well be buried in a pine box because there can’t be oxygen in this damp basement he's locked in, because his lungs refuse to take any in.

Above it all is the ache splitting his ribs, for every death he's had to watch and carry on through- every victim he couldn't save, every family member he's ever failed- Sam, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, Charlie, Mom, Cas-

Cas, help, help me, help me please—

It's a plea, a prayer, for help, for forgiveness, an apology for it all; the fighting, the lies, for not listening to him, for not helping him, for not saving him; from Crowley, from Rowena, from Lucifer, from Asmodeus, from the Empty.

It's an apology for not saying it, for not stopping him, yet again, when he left him in that dungeon months ago, when everything was falling apart just like he is now.

He's only able to duly note that there’s a bang above him. A shot. A yell and a burst of energy. It's too far away, too far outside this bubble of torment that he's stuck inside and can't escape. He can’t bring himself to pay attention to the blood leaking down his face, the swollenness of his left eye socket and the pressure building steadily there. He knows at some point he tried to move, to curl in on himself, to somehow protect himself against the mental hits, forgetting the chains keeping him prisoner against the cold cement wall, and his ribs protested harshly. He's sure some are broken but he can't bring himself to care, because it's just more pain, more nausea inducing fear.

None of it can really matter now, ever since the spell that has his lungs gasping for breath and hot tears staining his cheeks as he struggles to calm his pulse, to not shake against his shackles. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, is the spell finally killing him? He knows it's the spell, he knows, he knows, but he keeps seeing flames on the ceiling, Sam's back bleeding red onto his palm, burnt wings on the ground around him, everyone he loves leaves, dies, he corrupts everyone who touches him, why do people keep touching him?

He just wants it to stop, please, please make it stop, please make it quiet, please end it, because he can't watch Sam fall into the pit, he cant watch the blue white glow and hear Cas's scream-

Cas, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sorry, I'm sorry-

He clings to Cas, like he did being half carried down the bunker halls that day, begs the thought of the angel to ground him somewhere; the movie nights, the car rides, the late night phone calls with Dean sitting outside his hotel room in the driver's seat of the impala so he doesn't wake Sam but those happy thoughts feel so far away, like it isn't him in the memories, and they're easily replaced by the tears sliding down Cas's cheeks as he says his goodbyes, Death pounding on the door like his heartbeat in his skull, boom, boom, boom, until Dean's lungs bottom out as his back hits the wall-

"Cas!!"

"Dean!"

He twists his face, screws his eyes shut tight; no, no he can't hear his voice, can't hear it saying what he can't say back-

"Dean, I'm here."

Stop, stop; Cas is safe and home, but he can't be, maybe Jack didn't bring him back, maybe it's all been a cruel joke. Maybe he's still in hell, suffering the loss of a love he's never known.

Dean has to be still sitting on the dungeon floor, twisting and jerking to free himself from the chains that hold him there, his body protesting, his throat caught between a sob and a yell, both so broken by pain, forced to lose his best friend, forced into silence by the trauma, unable to scream or whisper it back and he opens his eyes, tries to see through the blur of tears, only to be taunted by blue eyes staring back, wide eyed and scared, scared of him, scared to be saying it, scared of dying.

"Cas, please-" he hiccups a sob, willing Cas to stop looking at him, to stop the rough hands yanking at his wrists, rougher hands still frantically gripping his shoulders-

"Dean, Dean it's us, its Sam and Castiel--it's me, stop-"

Stop, and he's sure Cas is lying broken, on the floor beneath him in the bunker in a mess of books and wood splinters, a moment from death at Dean's own rage-fueled, bloodied hands-

And then Cas is cupping his face and he forces his eyes open, forces himself to look into the blue eyes peering back at him, and he can't help but to rest into the warm palms, to get relief in any way, uncaring if Cas kills him here in this crypt over this tablet now.

"Cas-"

"They're coming, hurry-"

"I'm getting it, just--...I got it, help Dean, I’ll cover--"

And then the chains are free, and Cas is lifting him from Hell, lifting him from the pit, an arm around his back, a hand around his wrist but this time it isn't restraining and restrictive; no it's carrying him through the gunshots, through the bunker halls, up wooden steps and into sunlight, into leather seats where he can collapse back, his head lulling forward to stare at the dark floors that should be the dirt at a lake house, marred by burned wings-

"Dean, I've got you."

"Cas..." He whimpers out, aching on the movie nights, an old western playing over them in the dark where he can blame the closeness on booze, on tiredness, on just accidentally shifting closer trying to get the popcorn. He aches to let himself fall into Cas's hands, closing his eyes against the touch that he knows he shouldn't want, and yet he thinks Cas wants now, somehow, someway in front of a neon cross-

"Dean, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me...look at me."

He shouldn't want to peer up into those blue eyes and imagine the cosmic energy behind them and yet he does, to just selfishly grasp at the possible love behind them, to feel the words ‘I love you’ over and over again; that he's loved, that he's a loving, cared for, selfless, kind person, all the things he's still not sure he is and yet he wants to be, wants to be more than anything and yet how can something as otherworldly as Cas be wrong?

"I've got you. Take this, for me, it’s okay."

How can he deny someone like Cas, when he's looking at him so purely?

Cool glass meets his lips and a liquid snakes down his throat and its somehow vile and yet holds a ginger root scent that’s warm and kind of smells like that trench coat or maybe that's coming from the fabric itself that he’s gripping like a lifeline now, head curling against the angel's warm palm. Cas is staring so mournfully sweetly at him, and suddenly his entire body is full of warmth and intimacy and safety; kindness and love and he can’t help but whimper in awe at it.

"Shh. It's okay, Dean. It’s okay."

It's okay.

It’s okay to finally let himself ignore the old western on the tv, Sam and Jack, to let his head lull onto Cas's shoulder, to let Cas guide him against his chest, to let Cas wrap an arm around him. It's okay to cry at the sensation of Cas's warm palm against his cheek, to focus entirely on his thumb stroking his skin.

He can hear Sam asking Cas a question, he's sure he hears his own name, but it isn’t accusing, it isn’t judging, it isn’t hateful; Sam's asking if he's okay. Because of course he is.

"He will be."

Maybe he will be.

No, he will be because Cas has got him.

Cas has got him, like he's always had him; once more he's lifting him up from hell, and he's safe in his arms, curled up against his side now, the safest place he could be, and finally his body and mind drift away from the exhaustion of it all; lulled to sleep by Cas's warmth against his side, the rumble of baby's engine, the low Led Zeppelin track on the radio, and the knowledge that he'll be okay.

#destiel fanfic #deancas #casdean #destiel #ficlet thing #cee rambles about things #i wrote this in like an hour to cope with bad levels of anxiety #and it helped #this is the second time ive written an anxiety based fic to cope with anxiety #anyone else do this #reblogs welcome #god i just love commas dont you

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themrmalice · 4 years

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Treacherous Deep

By Malice

Narrated on YouTube by The Disciple: https://youtu.be/rmoQAE5QBM8

youtube

Metal groans in discomfort as its frame compresses, glass shakes and snickers, full knowledge that it alone stands as a barrier between the crew and the black depth outside. Like invisible arms squeezing the cabin with all its might, wishing only to crush the sub like a tin can. Within were 5 “Derelicts” a term coined for salvagers, investigating a signal that blew through the system from 15,000m below the tense surface of water. Clean, lacking waves, like a marble. Took 4 blasts from an orbital kinetic cannon to break the surface tension, allowing the Derelicts to go beneath its murky waves.

Passing 4,000m, the Abyss, where no light dare tread, and where only 1 singular pulse of light may emit. A fiery red beams from a subsurface station, pulsing, again, again, again. It was still a few thousand metres down, in the pitch black beneath us. Perched on the only continental mass we could find, between two cliffs leading into a massive and unexplored crevice. Depth calculators still havent found the bottom, hidden as it is, we were sent in to find where the S.O.S. was coming from.

Passing 6,000m, its been quiet, with only a few low groans from the Ballast interrupting that silence. Hideous and beautiful, the ocean is nothing but a masterpiece. Our Sonar has not picked up anything thus far, and with a 4,000 mile radius, its only proof that we are truly in an abyss. No rocky formations, no lifeforms, not even bacterial life. Just our sub. The S.S. Moloch. As we sink deeper into the abyss, my job becomes far more difficult. I manage room pressurization. Normally Automated, but the station wanted us to be extra cautious. After 10,000m, its one button press from instantaneous death due to Barotrauma. I’ve seen it, at this depth the body is its own weapon. Implosion, your body guts itself brutally, the fashion by which it does this involves innumerable organs expanding and collapsing. In the blink of an eye, what used to be your friend is now a misty cloud of parting crimson.

Passing 9,000m, in just a few minutes, our ears will start to ring, a signal I need to up pressurization in the sub, just a tick too much however, and we will meet a watery grave. The control panel in front of me started to beep a couple hundred meters up, showcasing a warning that the pressure in my specific cabin was getting too low. If I let it beep for a second longer, my cabin would have collapsed, adding to the weight of our sub and eventually sinking the S.S. Moloch. Everything must be perfect, every tiny calculation, no room for error. Our Oxygen Supply, if the tempurature increases the entire supply could explode and puncture the bow, dragging us all down with it. The Sonar, if we lose power to it, even for a moment, wont be able to notify us of our descent speed. Moving to fast, we hit a rock and implode, moving to slow, and we are wasting valuable minutes beneath the surface. The Pilot, his hands are weary and eyes are straining, sweating profusely, one wrong move and we’ve lost time down here. This S.O.S. beacon was calculated to be below 20,000m. Under the crust and buried in the mantle.

10,000m, we found the station, who signalled us into a drydock for resupply and a small break lasting only 2 hours. A mistake in my opinion, the break may only slow us down. I remained on the ship, telling those on the station I cannot leave until I can guarantee the safe reentry of my companions. About 30 minutes in, I gave in and left. The station was dilapidated, held together by the bare minimum, I believe I found some gum holding a small hole in the ground of the dry dock together, frozen by nitrogen. Depth Gum too, made out of plants found down here, eases anxiety while retaining focus. The crew aboard the station, Station Lamia, one of 4 here and the only one at this depth in The Trench. The Crew were all very calm, relaxed, and overall pleasant. They gave us food, water, the occasional ration of alcohol, and eventually sat us down for a more serious topic. The Trench. The widest berth they’ve found down here was a mere 800m in diametre. Our sub could easily slip through, but that was merely the opening. Past 14,000m, the diameter never opens up to 800m, meaning we would need to take it slow and cautious. They warned us of the wild life down here as well. Incredibly territorial and incredibly large to boot. The largest creature they’ve seen can dwarf the entire station! Its so massive that it could never find its way out of the cavern system. The caves it resides in are too far beneath the trench to explore, but a probe was sent in and never found the bottom. Only the horrifying site of an unknown station. Upon exploration of it, the researchers found scriptures of unknown languages. A sign we have been looking for, a sign of sentient alien life. The unknown station was named “Incognita” and has been probed only twice. The full station has not been explored, as part of it was burrowed into the wall of the cave. Another threat they mentioned, oozing black liquid, an ichor so strong it could stick our whole sub to the side of a building on Earth with only 5 square inches of it. Its so powerful that extraction is next to impossible. They would require a requisitioned Extraction Mech AND have it modded to survive at this depth. To put it lightly, this cave system wants us dead. The Water, wants us dead. The creatures. The rocks. The currents. All of it wants us dead. The final and most foreboding threat they warned us about, the water itself. Its not water. It feels, looks, tastes like water. But its lighter. And on a microbial scale, it too moves upon its own volition. Tiny molecules that sink into the pores of skin and bones. The molecules themselves will expand and connect during expansion. When you swim in the water, you cant come out. They happily gave us a new Depth Suit, only one and not fitted. We boarded our sub and said goodbye. The Crew gave us hugs and we left with a somber farewell. They didnt expect to see us again.

Passing 12,000m, the pressure is off the charts and hard to control. Outside is no longer black, but now gray rocks painted by my light. These rocks moved swiftly. “I thought they said this cave had a wide berth?” I said to the captain. The radio clicked on, “Yeah, I thought so too. I cant remain mad at them though, I wouldn’t want to do constant calculations down here.” He has a point. But, this is a lot smaller than they led us to believe! We barely fit through some caves! The stalactites nearly scraped my window, but they were pointed at a peculiar angle. Odd. Why would they be pointed off to the side? Maybe the ship nudged them.

Passing 15,000m, we were nearing the point of the S.O.S., with enough Oxygen to get us back to the station with an hour to spare and enough fuel to get us to the surface and back, we were all feeling warily confident! The Crew had snuck a pack of Depth Gum for us onto the ship, so we were all feeling more relaxed than normal. Even with our ship barely fitting through some sections. The ship groaned a few metres down, made us all jump out of our seats! It was so loud we thought we scraped against the wall! Turns out the Ballast just kicked some sand from the bed! Our on board engineer screamed “Watch it! We dont want to poke a hole in the ballast, you know that right?” The captain quickly responded “I-I didnt hit it! The sonar didn’t state that the bed was anywhere close to us! We had about a 10 metre difference between the ballast and the sand bed!” “Uh-huh,” the engineer groaned, “just make sure you watch it next time. Please.” “Of course.” The captain wearily said. He looked more confused as he examined the Sonar, I peaked over and saw what was confusing him. The sand bed behind us was now much lower! How can that be? Its solid rock with a pile of sand on it! Thank god we only nicked the sand pile itself!

Passing 17,000m, this cave is by far an anomaly! Nothing we have ever seen before! The cave walls shift! I swear on my life! I told the captain and he said nothing, just a blank stare. Of course, thats a staple of him. He wears drab attire, only his captain coat and hat set him apart from the rest of us. The generic blue captains coat was nothing to scoff at however, for he had a number of badges, all decorated his upper left shoulder. One patch was a commendation of performing 12 missions below 10,000m. This would be his 13th. Another patch showed his military service during The Fall. One for 40 years of service. Finally there was one I hadn’t recognized. A red patch, decorated with a blue rose in the middle with the words “Flos Occidere” encircling it. I know that Patch I just cant put a name to it!

Passing 19,000m, we were approximately 1 hour from the S.O.S. The Captain turned to me, with his dead glare he said “I want you to go in the Suit and investigate the signal.” I was surprised, “Why me?” I asked. He spoke again, this time without tone “I want you to go in the suit and investigate the signal, thats an order.” I quickly responded “Yes sir!”. But something felt off about him. As we descended, the pressure began to stabilize and I asked him “May I go get a drink, sir?” He nodded quietly, eyes fixated on the sonar, which shifted every few minutes. I got up and began my descent into the musty storage, where I picked up a flashlight, a Seal, and a bottle of water. As I turned around the Engineering Chief was behind me, glaring at me with similarly dead eyes. “You got what you need for your dive?” I nodded, shaken by his posture and gaze, “Wait, how did you know I was diving? The captain never sent out a mess-” He turned around and grabbed a handheld sonar and the Dive Suit I was going to wear, “Better get prepared, we are only 500m from the bottom.” then he shoved them all into my arms and slowly walked away. I was trembling, both from that encounter, and the thought that we were already only 500m away from “The Bottom”. Which means either we are descending fast, or the caves shifted again, bringing the Beacon closer to us for some unexplained reason.

20,000m. We stopped just a few meters away from a Derelict, crushed into itself with triangular holes roughly grinded into the body. The scene was horrendous. I was alone in the jettison chamber, in my suit with an hour of oxygen available to me. I booted up my Seal, and it began to whir rapidly. I turned it off to preserve power, and gave a thumbs up to the camera. Voice Comms werent available in this suit, unfortunately, so I was on my own. The chamber opened and a cold wash of liquid cleaned the scuffs off my suit and I was immediately enveloped by the deep black. The ships bow lights were on, illuminated the whole of the wreck. I booted my Seal up again and it tugged me towards the wreck, where its perched flashlight poked into recesses and revealed exploded Oxygen Tanks and cracked glass. After surveying the outside, I wormed my way within through an incredibly large hold, the same triangular holds decorated the rim of it. The steel door ahead of me was covered in that ichor the crew on the station mentioned, so I wasnt getting in through that. Luckily the way the ship was bent showed a smaller hole that gave way to the inside. I barely squeezed through, and before I knew it I was inside the Medical Bay. Only a distorted arm floated towards the ceiling, other than that, the place was empty. I noticed that the door had claw marks on it, something with incredible strength tried to break in. I found the S.O.S. Beacon and turned it off.

As soon as the switch clicked into place, though, the lights from the sub were gone. Replaced by a deafening squeal of metal against stone, similar to that a rumble began beneath my feet! I had to get out of the sub! I clawed my way to a hole and began to tear through the rusted metal with only my hands. Unfortunately, the metal had cut a hole into my glove! I swam out, searching for my Sub, but nothing was there except the dead black! Limitless, I used my seal to chase upwards for a minute and found nothing, not even the cave walls! I felt a current, a pull, the water shifted from behind me! An unknown presence was here! I quickly descended back to the sub, and sheltered myself inside the Medical Bay. I saw something move, something massive! Enormous teeth and a gaping maw! Eventually, it all went black again, my light flickered off so all I could see was black! It came back on again, illuminated a pale figure in the distance, outside the hole in the sub, a massive mouth with hundreds of teeth, all swirling in an oval! It drew closer and closer, until I could see the shine of its teeth! It slammed into the sub, my light flashed off again, and all I could hear were the hideous moans emitted from the sub itself as it conformed to the mouth biting into it. The rumbling began again, god I cant take another cave shift! It continued for minutes on end until grinding to a halt! It was all quiet! My light still didnt work, the battery finally ran out! I felt the rush of the water, the water shifted again! But this time, it was next to me! I reached for my belt and grabbed an emergency flare, I struggled with the tip for a while and fumbled lighting it, until eventually, it snapped to life! And before me, illuminated by the red of my flare, a horrific figure appeared and disappeared again. It looked to have tentacles! I have no idea! I slowly rose to my feet, the whole medical bay was illuminated now, I could see the hole! Instantly I got up and swam out, where I was met with a distant sound that rang through my body. I felt something slowly envelope my leg, and tug me downwards. I let go of the flare and flailed back and forth as the thing grabbing me did! I was hurled into the sand, where I snagged a small pointed rock, which I used to jab into the gripping mass! With one hand I held it, and with the other I punched into the squishy thing with the rock! It let go, and I began to fall deeper. The flare was below me, showcasing a massive cave, something from my deepest nightmares! The walls were flexing and slowly writhing into itself, weaving a horrid shape around me. I continued to fall, feeling the water rush around me, watching the flare as it too fell. The walls began to slowly narrow, until only a small hole, big enough for one person to fit was found. It looked like it was excavated. When I gently landed beside the hole, I picked up the now dying flare. I raised it, nothing was around me! But i felt the water rushing to and fro. I reluctantly hopped into the hole, and slowly descended into it. I fell for what felt like hours, before reaching a small cave with no way out. When I hit the ground, a horrific sound bellowed through the cave. Another groan. The flare died out. I was alone in a crunchy pit. It felt like the floors were made of wood that had been burnt to cinders.

An hour passed, I began crying, watching my Oxygen Supply deplete slowly. Just let me die already. Before me, I saw a small yellow light, it was growing in size! Its the end! I’m free! I jumped to my feet and stammered closer! On my approached I realized, it was something physical. The size of a Walnut, growing, becoming more bright. It began to illuminate something it was hanging on. I moved in for a closer look, my hand outstretched to grab the pulsing seed. Until the seed flashed brightly, and showcased the horror that held it. Long, gangly hands. All its bones were grotesquely lengthened, and a swirling mass of tentacles weaving into a ball laid at its feet. A human skeleton. Its ribcage still loosely intact, and its arms slowly enveloping me. The skull was fully dysmorphic, the upper half of the skull was lengthened with sharp, elongated teeth pointing from the front. Below its jaw hung, barely held to to the skull. From the roof of the mouth, the seed hung. How was it moving? The last thought that crossed my mind. Only to be answered, by the realization of that very black ichor covering the joints and crossing from one bone to another. As its arms closed in, its head moved towards me, and the light began to fade.

#horror story #horror literature #writeblr #writing #writers #creative writing #science fiction #sci fi #Youtube

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imactuallyanoodle · 5 years

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Hi! I’m Maddy, this is my first ever one shot story thingy, so I hope you enjoy!! It’s a little bit long :)

Summary: The awful scene with Louis (you know the one I’m talking about) was just a nightmare Clem had, and he’s fine, everything’s fine! It’s all good!! It’s the ending we all want!!

Nightmares by Candlelight

Clem’s P.O.V:

“Close the door!” I shout frantically to AJ and Violet, though I can barely hear myself over the pounding of my heartbeat ringing through my ears. The walkers were way too close for comfort, shambling behind us in a herd onto the dock. I catch my breath before I speak.

“Remember the plan?”

“Plant the bomb, save our friends, don’t get caught. And fuck up anyone who gets in our way.” Violet responds, with a determination burning in her eyes. I nod.

“AJ, stay close, okay?”

“Okay.”

We sneak through the boat, cloaking ourselves in the shadows of supply crates. My heart is in my throat. The closer we get to finding our people, the more I almost don’t want to. The Delta is ruthless, people who are willing to enslave children to fight their war have no problem torturing them, torturing Louis. I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if they... I push the thought away.

‘Focus Clementine, don’t overthink. You have to get them back.’ I tell myself.

“There’s the boiler room!” AJ whispers, pointing ahead of us.

I pull the handle, the three of us creeping in. I open the latch to the boiler and look to Violet, holding the bomb in her hands.

“ I hope this works.”

“If Willy’s learned anything from Mitch, this bomb will blow the shit out of the whole fucking pier.” Violet quips with a smirk, carefully putting the bomb in place. I shut the latch.

“Let’s get our people back.”

Violet and AJ follow me up the stairs, to the second level of the boat. I peak over the cargo, my eyes immediately landing on Minnie. She’s patrolling the floor, her back turned to us. This must be where they’re keeping everyone. I suck in a quick breath, my hand moving to ready an arrow in the drawstring of my bow. I stand as Minnie whips around, crossbow drawn.

“Get the fuck out of here.” She spits, face contorting into a mix of anger and disgust.

“Not until I get my people back.” I respond, voice steady.

“Minnie, just let us through. we’ll get everyone and leave as fast as we can. You uh, you know you can come home with us.” Violet pleads, and as I glance back at her, I see the pain in her face.

I notice Minnie falter at this, her eyes softening. She lowers her crossbow.

“I... can’t. The Delta is my home now.” She responds to Violet.

“I know you don’t fucking mean that. Minnie, I thought you were dead. And then I find out you’ve been alive this whole goddamn time, and when I finally find you, you don’t even wanna come back with us? With me?” Violet’s voice fades slightly in the background as I walk past Minnie into the hallway.

“Aasim! Omar! Are you guys hurt?” I exclaim, relief flowing through my veins at the sight of my friends.

“Clem! Oh thank god! No, we’re good.” Aasim says, face lighting up at the sight of me.

“Where’s Louis?” I ask, immediately feeling dread wash over me when Aasim’s Head drops and Omar’s face fills with pity.

“He’s uh... he’s in the cell across from us.” Omar answers shakily.

I turn my attention to the cell, ducking down and unlocking it as quickly as I can. I push the old, rusted door open with an awful grinding sound as my eyes scan the room. They land on Louis, huddled in the corner, the back of his trench coat illuminated by the moonlight shining in through the window.

“Louis!” I begin to run towards him, when something hard slams into the back of my head, and my vision blurs. I hit the floor, my world going dark.

I come to some time later, blobs of colour slowly swimming back to distinguishable shapes. I notice the closed cell door, and everything floods into my head all at once. Minnie betrayed us, go figure. “Dammit” I hiss, and I pull myself up off the old floor as I call his name again.

“Louis! Are you alright?”

He turns at the sound of my voice, and I suddenly feel a weight drop in my stomach. His chin and mouth is covered in blood, it’s run down to his chest and drenched the top half of his shirt. My brows twist in pity, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes.

“What did they do to you?” I whisper.

He whimpers in response, a sound so awful it sent a spike of pain through my chest. He crawls toward me, throwing his arms around me as he sobs. I hug him back just as tightly, feeling the waves of sadness And shock roll over my body, threatening to pull me under.

he pulls away, tears running down his cheeks as he cups my face in his hands. He looks at me as if I’m a hallucination, his eyes darting across my features, looking for proof of my existence.

Then he smiles, and all I can see is the crimson red of fresh blood in his mouth, it coats his teeth and gums to the point where I can barely see them, and my head is spinning and I feel the bile rising in my throat when I ask,

“W....what happened?”

His smile drops, and I see the trauma in his eyes as he attempts to speak. He gets a few whimpers out before Aasim cuts him off.

“Don’t! The raiders...cut out his tongue, because he wouldn’t shut up. God, why couldn’t you just quit talking, Lou?”

I gasp as I feel the shock seap into my bones. A sorrow I’ve never quite felt before spears my chest, it’s icy claws digging their way to my heart.

I’ll never hear his voice again. They way he sings my name, his laugh that can make even Violet crack a smile. His stupid jokes and witty quips, the soothing rumble of his chest as he sings me to sleep. It’s gone, all gone, and it took his spirit with it.

My vision blurs as I feel hot tears slide down my cheeks, and I catch his face crumbling as he buries his head into my shoulder, his body shaking with the cries that knock around in my head. Then he starts to scream.

A haunted, hollow wail that sends bolts of complete helplessness through me. My limbs go numb as his voice fills the room, engraving the walls with the hopeless words of a broken soul. His voice seems to consume my mind, his howls broken only by the tears that seep their way through. It’s getting louder now, so loud that it rattles my skull and it takes everything in me to keep myself from slamming my hands against my ears.

“Lou, please, you have to calm down.”

My pleas seem to only increase the volume of his garbled cries. I cant handle it anymore, the claws of pity and sorrow grasping at my ankles, trying to drag me down as my head threatens to explode,

“LOUIS, STOP!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes snap open, and as the foggy haze of sleep leaves my mind, I realize I’m screaming. I slap my hand over my mouth, jagged breaths slipping between my fingertips as I sit up and look to AJ’s bunk, relieved I didn’t wake him. I’ll never understand how he manages to sleep through everything. I slowly lower myself down on the bed, my heart beating so fast I feel every pump shake my chest. God, that was awful. Seeing Louis like that, so broken...so scared, I didn’t even know how to react. I’ve never seen him so traumatized, even when he lost Marlon. His wails, his whimpers, I can still hear them echoing around my room, bouncing off the paint-peeled walls and filling up my ears.

I know it was just a dream. I know it’s not real, but I just, need to see him. To hear his voice, to make sure everything’s okay. I lift the blankets off my body, and try to creep out of the room as quietly as possible. This proves quite difficult though, as my shaking feet seem to find every creaking floorboard, playing an awful, squeaky melody. I slowly twist the doorknob, closing it gently behind me as a step out into the moon-flooded hallway. The cold night air nips at my sleeveless arms as I bite my lip. My breath comes out in sharp gasps, and the shaking of my body does nothing to help steady it. Tears make my vision foggy, and I feel my lip quiver.

‘Louis is fine, he’s okay, he’s safe.’ I repeat over and over in my head, trying to bring myself some peace as I stumble to his dorm room in search of him. I slowly push on the half open door, only to find the room empty, except for the unmade bed in the corner. I feel anxiety pooling in my stomach when I see no sign of him, and my heartbeat picks up pace, each beat is deafening in the silence of the night. I take in a shaky breath; there’s only two places Louis could be, his dorm, or the music room. I make my way to the exit of the dorm hall, my feet moving faster now. I push the door open, immediately crossing my arms over my chest, shivering, as I step out into the courtyard. A chilly autumn breeze weaves through the trees, whipping around the old school buildings. It sings in a hollow tone, reminding me eerily so of Louis’ helpless cries from my nightmare. I jog swiftly to the Admin building, pulling open the door and immediately turning to the soft melodies flowing from the old piano.

I see him, face cast in a warm yellow glow from the candles placed haphazardly on top of the instrument. He stops playing, brow furrowing as he scribbles something on a piece of sheet music. Comfort hits me at the sight of him back home, safe. I tread lightly to the music room, feeling warm tears drip down my cold cheeks in relief. He must’ve heard my sniffles and ragged breaths as he glances up from his work quickly, doing a double take when he realizes something is wrong. He turns to me fully, face pinching in worry as he asks,

“Clem? What’s wrong?”

Hearing his voice sends me over the edge. All the tears I’ve held back, after watching him get torn away from me at the hands of the Delta, finding him in the cell, finally getting him back home, they all spill out of me mercilessly. So much for being tough.

A look of worry and sadness settles on his face as he swiftly stands from the piano bench, stepping towards me and wrapping his arms around me. I throw my arms around him.

“Oh my god, you’re shaking, here,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the couch in the corner of the room.

He sits me down, and plops down next to me, never letting go of my hand. I slide my arms around his torso, and he hesitates for a second, before doing the same, pulling me into his lap. He rubs my back, mumbling soothing words in my ear. When I’m calm enough to speak, he asks,

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

I look at him, face softly set aglow in a mix of light from the candles and the moon, freckles splattered across his cheeks like the stars in the night sky. I cup his face in my hands, filled with worry, and finally manage to choke out the story of my nightmare.

“T-the Delta, when I came to g-get you... they cut out your t-tongue, oh you wouldn’t stop screaming, it w-was horrible, so I had to come an-and make sure you’re o-kay.” The words come out jagged, broken by my sharp breaths as I try to keep the tears at bay.

He looks confused for a second, before realizing that I’m talking about a dream. His face softens, flashing me a sad smile as his breath rushes out in a half-chuckle between his lips.

“Oh thank god, I thought you were hurt or something. It was just a nightmare, love. See? I still habe my pthongue. Ahhh” He says, ending the sentence with his tongue sticking out, distorting his words.

I giggle at his antics, which paints a huge grin across his face.

“Aw, there’s that classic Clementine smile! Oh how we’ve missed you.” He declares theatrically, earning him an eye roll in response.

I lightly hit him on the shoulder, while I speak through a chuckle. “oh stop it! I’m being serious. Seeing you hurt like that, it broke me, Lou.”

He pulls me to his chest, kissing the top of my head.

“It’s okay, Clem. We��re all safe. I’m safe, I promise.” He says quietly, softly rocking us back and forth on the couch.

“It’s super late, you should head back to bed Sweetheart.”

“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to sleep after that.” I say, a blush slowly rising to my cheeks when I realize what he called me.

I hear a “hmm” rumble up from his chest as my head lays there, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Let’s just crash here for the night then.” He mumbles while stretching out on the couch, pulling me with him.

“Lou? Can you, uh... sing to me?” I ask timidly, worried he’d be weirded out by the request.

“Aw, of course, anything specific you wanna hear?”

“Just the sound of your voice.” I whisper back.

My eyes slowly get heavy at the soothing tones of his melody. The vibrations of his chest lull me to sleep as he softly sings a song I don’t recognize, but the lyrics leave the silhouette of a smile on my lips as I gradually drift off.

“ I had a thought dear, however scary.

About that night,

The bugs and the dirt.

Why were you digging?

What did you bury?

Before those hands pulled me from the earth.

I will not ask you where you came from,

I will not ask, and neither should you.

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do.”

#twdg #twdg oneshot #twdg louis #twdg clem

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trqnsboy-moved-blog · 7 years

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overwatch band au

overband? bandwatch? i love reaper so much and i wanted a reason to put him into a crop top watch?

ok so im not good at this stuf but guys dudes.

mk so basically ana, gabe, and jack made a band out of their garage, and it got rlly popular when they were just 17-19. it blew up completely making all these guys famous at a rlly vulnerable age

the band was called “three” and their fans called themselves 3′s, which was rlly cute

ana was the singer/pianist, jack was the lead guitarist, gabe was the drummer/bassist/pianist

eventually they realized that they couldnt keep that all up, so they got some friends to help them

the friends were torb, rein, amelia, and angela.

they called themselves “four” and were half their own band/half three

torb did the sound setups, he was basically their tech guy and he just constantly did that. he became the best in the business bc he always set things up perfectly for each band

rein played bass or drums, he was also partially their hype man cause everyones so emo

amelia was a backup singer and bassist, she also added an extra dark horse in the band

angela was a backup singer and a pianist. she liked the concept of adding older elements to their music

about halfway through their career, a scandal pops up that ana is pregnant and unmarried, everyones losing their minds cause they over react

jack and gabe immediately come to her defense. the other members either get ignored or dont speak out about it

gabe adopts jessie and genji; his two trans teens.

gabe basically just puts up a middle finger and says “fuck the media” and wont do any more interviews. ana draws back slightly as well.

fareeha gets born and mccree, genji, and fareeha go on a photoshoot as soon as fareeha is old enough (at the request of jessie)

something goes wrong and gabe leaves the band and it just sorta crumbles.

radio silence from gabe, ana and jack

four basically broke up after.

angela paired up w like covergirl or dove or smthg

amelia became a fashion model as well as a gothic novel writer

rein became mayor of his home town

torb just continued in the music industry

so like... 20 years later this band named “bop” or some shit gets rlly big

its made up of hana, lucio, lena, as well as fareeha.

fareeha is the lead guitarist and singer, she also has a solo career going under the name “pharah” everybody is so confused on what happened to her and her mom

hana plays the drums and does vocals as well

lena is the guitarist, she cant sing for shit rsdxfcgv

lucio takes care of everything else, he adds remixes and electronic beats. he also does vocals

this underground band named twitch gets rlly popular as well. its a sorta communist, electro, vertual reality thing. its made up of aleksandra, satya, and somebody named sombra

jessie has been releasing country albums for years. hes the king of country and no one questioned it????

jessie does a combo w twitch and nobody knew that country cound sound that good

hanzos just a rich violinist, idk how that happened But It Did

genji went through a rlly heavy metal phase, he didnt make music but he wrote some songs for some ppl

genji comes out ten years after his heavy metal phase w zenyatta, singing hozier stuff and its rlly good but???? he went from 0-100

zenyattas just this happy guy who loves his bf and singing

bastion was the creater of dubstep but now he just likes to listen to twitch

sombra has released one statement Ever saying “i wuv u bastion uwu”

effie and orisa won americas got talent (or another show) and became rlly rlly famous

akande sings punk rock and i love him for it.

jamison and mako are folk singers w an edge. jamison sings and he has an awful but inticing voice. they are only famous in australia, but mako and rein are friends

mei is this rlly sweet pop artist who gets too much hate.

i wuv pop idol mei

suddenly a magazine comes out w old gabe, old jack, and old ana; wearing the same clothes from their famous photoshoot -dark blue slacks w a matching trench coat. jack wore his coat over his shoulders, ana had it on but it was falling off her shoulders, gabe had it on but it was open, w a different type of white top. jack wore a see through white tinted dress shirt, ana wore a turtleneck crop top, and gabe wore a v neck crop top that showed he titty- w a caption saying smthg like, “we arent dead” and the press goes W I L D

thanks for uhhhhhh reading, welcome to my ted talk

#abe mumbles #this all came from thinking abt that last outfit #overwatch #band au #overwatch au #gabriel reyes #alternate universe #ok to rb #long post /

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ashleighxx · 7 years

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Klarolinemashup Day Two

Saturday15th|ObjectPrompt|A belt, a coffee mug and a notebook

Klaus had been living on the streets go around a year now. His father, Mikael, had found out he wasn't his son and got seriously drunk. So by the time Klaus had come home from an art exhibit, the sight had not been pretty at all. He was always harsh with him, lashing out with his fists sometimes when he was sober, but if he had a drink it always ended up much worse, Mikael favouring his belt after a few scotches. After his beating, Mikael kicked him out with all he had on him at the time, not wanting him around his family. Klaus didn't have any friends, he loved the solitude and preferred to be around his siblings if he needed conversation and connection so he had nowhere else to go. His funds was cut now that he wasn't a real Mikaelson and his pride left him to leave to city he called home invade he bumped into his siblings. He sold his phone and some rings he had on him, took the next bus out of Chicago to New York City, and that's where he has stayed ever since. The one thing he hated living rough, apart from the weather at times, was the looks of pity people cast him. He could deal with the ignorance, the dirty looks off some businessmen who reminded him of the reason he was in that situation. The weather wasn't so nice either, especially now it was winter. It had been constantly raining and he was soaked to the bone, the little covering he did have wasn't enough, so he was huddled in a ball, shivering. Looking down a pair of black heeled boots stopped and pointed at his direction, and once they didn't move for a few minutes Klaus looked at the see what they're problem was. He lifted his gaze to follow up the knee length boots, a sliver of tights peeking between the boots and a black fitted trench coat, a leather satchel in the brightest yellow slung on the person's waist. Carrying on inspecting higher, he saw two disposable hot drinks cups in gloved hands, matching scarf, then the most beautiful sight he had seen stood before him. Soft, blonde waves, framed the stunning pale, skin as she had her head tilted down towards him. Pink rosy cheeks, probably from her drink warming her up, and sparkling, blue eyes staring at him intently.

She looked like an angel.

An angel sent down to him in his time of need.

"Hi." She said softly as she thrust her hand with one of the drinks in toward him. "It's for you." She paused. "For you to drink." She added a bit more cautiously, his face must have looked incredulous. "Thanks." He spoke in trepidation. "My names Caroline." She smiled down at him still. "Klaus." "Come one then." She demanded as she took a step to the side and started walking. "Come where?" "I can't study in the rain." She looked at him with a slight frown, as if he was to know that bit of information, as if he knew her. "I'm not..." he began to say something, he wasn't sure what though. "I'm not gonna ask for your life story or whatever. Just thought you might appreciate someone to talk to in a warm and dry place. Well if you insist." She shrugged and started to walk away. He shot up quick and grabbed his bag before he knew it, following. The blonde woman, Caroline, tilted her head back to make sure he was following behind, smirking as he realised she caught him out. She slowed her steps so he walked with her and began talking about herself. Coaxing him to do the same.

She took him into a large public library and she and the librarian at the desk greeted each other warmly before she carried on into the building.

They silently walked through the library before Caroline directed him to an empty table and she placed her bag down at the table, shrugged her coat off and hung it on the back of the chair before she sat on it. Looking up at Klaus through her long lashes, a beautiful smile on her face, she nodded for him to sit down too, and after her not so subtle encouragement, he shuffled his way opposite her. He brought his hot coffee mug down in front of him and he cradled it between his hands to try and keep the warmth in them.

He watched in confusion as she grabbed a few books out of her bag and she put them about the place in a neatly manor, spotting books on various topics which he assumed was part of her college degree. He was so confused and wary at this young woman’s display of kindness and compassion towards him.

Klaus had mixed feelings of the topic.

He hated feeling weak and accepting help from anyone, he refused a lot of help throughout his time of being homeless, but he simply didn't understand why he suddenly felt grateful now. It simply couldn't be that she was beautiful, though that did have an added bonus, but he thinks it was because she hadn't treated him luck scum, she hadn't tried to belittle him and knock him down while he was already at rock bottom. No she simply saw him, saw him as a human going through a little difficulty and as though all her words can magic his worries and make his life better. Especially when her smile reached her blue eyes and they twinkled.

He berated himself for acting weak again and he looked down at his steaming coffee, getting lost in a world of his own.

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up at Caroline who was looking at him shyly before she turned away to look around. “What?”

“We are in a library, why don’t you grab a few books to read or you’ll be bored stiff. I'm gonna be here all day.”

Chuckling to himself at her demand, he stood up and walked a few aisles of the library and grabbed a few art books, checking out some new artists local to New York always eager to learn new techniques.

Hours passed and Klaus and Caroline were having fun. The dark haired woman from the reception desk had come over a few times. It turns out she was Caroline's friend, and this was her part time job to help fund her degree. He tried not to listen into their conversations as he was a gentleman at heart. He had to admit teasing the blonde was amusing though, even though it was sort of ungentlemanly of him. But he adorned the way her eyes flared up when he proved she was wrong and the way her forehead creased while she concentrated on her studies. She had relentlessly teased him back though and he enjoyed her look of triumph when she had beat him in a little quiz she had to do for one of her coursework.

Seeing her so passionate in her work made him feel a little somber, he couldn't remember the last time he held a paintbrush in his hands, a pencil even to sketch, and oh, how he longed to draw this stunning goddess that gave him time of day.

“What's up?” she whispered, as if she felt his sadness radiate from him.

“Nothing.” “Come on Klaus, tell me. It may help to clear some stuff off your chest.” her voice soothed him, like a balm for his soul and healing his pain.

“It’s just reading about art. Its one of my passions and I haven't been able to draw in a while that’s all.” He explained, carrying on reading his book in front of him. “I miss it.” he confessed.

Sensing to leave the topic alone, Caroline carried on reading her own book, drifting them into a comfortable silence.

Evening was fast approaching and Caroline grabbed another notebook out of her bag before scribbling some stuff onto it, ripping the page ut and folding it. She slid it towards Klaus. “There's directions and location of the homeless shelter I work at. Food, shower and a roof over your head. Please go there, the storm is rolling in any day now.” She threw her coat on and stuffed her books back into her satchel, ignore him and any signs of protesting, which he was going to. “I’ll see you around, Klaus.” She called over her shoulder as she left the library, and him behind.

Safe to say he didn't turn up at the shelter that night.

Caroline found him two days later. She had hoped he had come to the shelter after their time spent together, but she saw the stubbornness set on his face. It was why she fled quickly, trying not to give him time to reject the idea. She had helped loads of people on the streets, day after day, but she couldn't understand why he was so different. Why she connected with him so fast, why she was desperate that he kept safe from the upcoming snow storm.

She walked around the streets of New York looking for him. She knew she was being stupid and that she may not find him in the metal jungle but she was determined to find him by tonight, before the first snowfall.

She felt foolish these past few days.

The night she left Klaus, she headed home only to bypass an art supplies shop, taking a few steps back, her feet compelled her into the store and she browsed the lavish stock they had. Caroline bought a few stuff though. A sketch pad and some pencils, hoping she would bump into him on her shifts at the shelter, but he was nowhere to be seen. So they sat in her apartment, still in its gift wrap, awaiting to be torn open by its rightful owner.

She finally spotted him across the street and she jumped through traffic to get to him on the other side. He looked up at her, startled when he registered who’s face it was under the hat and scarf she wrapped herself up in.

“Hello, love.” he smiled at her, causing her to frown at his happiness, while she was worried about him.

She huffed and stomped her foot slightly, mentally curing herself for acting like a spoilt brat but she carried on when his face morphed into amusement. “You!” She pointed at him, “You're coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

“I cant, sweetheart. The shelter would be closing right about now.”

Damn him and his stubbornness and for refusing her generosity. “Well it's a good thing I'm not taking you there. Now grab your stuff and move it.” She put on her best commanding voice, channeling her inner cheerleader and he raised his eyebrow at her before getting his stuff together and follow her.

She led him back to her apartment and opened the door, wondering if this was a good idea after all, but she trusted him and she trusted her gut, so Caroline widened the door to let him inside. Her home was a tiny one bedroom apartment but she had gone out and decorated it in light and homey colours with soft furnishings. She was proud of what she had achieved in life, no matter how little.

Caroline walked over to the sofa and pulled it out into a bed, leaving Klaus stand in the room alone as she grabbed spare sheets and bedding from the closet. He watched her, no, gaped at her as she settled into her task of turning the living room into a bedroom for her new guest.

“I don’t need your charity, Caroline.” He tried to growl at her, but it came out more of a shocked grunt.

Giggling she walked into the tiny kitchen space that was opened out into the living room and she fixed herself and Klaus a sandwich and a drink, turning to look at him. “Tough, you're getting it.”

She brought them back into the living room and was glad when she saw Klaus had took off his jacket and had sat down on the edge of the sofa bed, looking at the side table. Looking at his name scribbled on a piece of card on top of the wrapped art supplies.

“Thats for you. You would have had it sooner, but you didn't show up.” She bit into her sandwich and turned to television on, glancing over at him now and again to make sure he was eating, and opening his gift. He gasped in surprise once he did and he choked a thanks before looking away.

It wasn't even half an hour later when she heard the tell tale signs of pencil scratching over the parchment.

She really was excited to have him stay as a roommate.

Telling him he was staying was going to be a challenge though.

But she never backed down from those.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klarolinemashup #Ashleigh's fanfiction

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falckointhehouse-blog · 7 years

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Blackwell Academy AU Ch 1

Blackwell Academy

Chapter 1

Hi my name is Barry Sneakspring. I am a 16 year old gnome and I am a transfer student at Blackwell Academy. I have short curly green hair that reaches my ears and green eyes. I usually wear limpid goggles to hide my eyes, because I hate my eyes, but everyone says they like my eyes. I hate it when people compliment me and give me attention. My parents died and mysteriously disappeared when they tried to become demon hunters under Illidan. Most people say that my parents died, but I believe Illidan made them demon hunters to fight legion. I got in on a scholarship for having demon hunter parents and being smart! Fangz you Blackwell academy! Today was going to be my year and I was going to be the best rogue there ever was.

RING! RING!

“AH I’M LATE!” I screamed as I ran out of bed and put on my school uniform and grabbed my packpack. I ran down the stairs and grabbed a piece of toast, sticking it in my mouth as I ran. School was close by and most students lived in dorms but my parents left behind a huge fortune for me and so I live alone. It was then that I saw an older student squatting on the sidewalk across from school.

RITHULE RAGEFANG“BIG DOG”, AGE: 28, 10th YEAR STUDENT, WORGEN

I bumped into the worgen by accident! He was so old and wore a student uniform. He arose and kicked me back onto the ground.

“HEY WATCH IT!” He screamed. I was terrified. He snatched my toast from my mouth.

“HEY!” I screamed back.

“Heh, nothing personal kid.” He said as he swallowed my toast! My stomach screamed.

“So you’re the new kid, heh?” Rithule said.

“Yeah.” I replied.

“You’re going to hate it there. I hate it there. They’ve held me back for 16 years now!” Rithule shouted at the stop of his lungs at the school as other students went inside. I gulped.

“Why did they do that?” I asked scaredly.

“Because I don’t go to class. Listen, kid, something’s up at that school. These kids aren’t normal kids.” Rithule glared.

“What kind of kids are they?” I asked frightenedly

“They’re fighter kids.” Rithule glared again.

RING! RING!

The school bell! I ran across the street and looked back at Rithule.

“COME TO CLASS WITH ME, RITHULE! WE CAN LEARN TOGETHER!” I screamed.

“Heh, that school’s for loser!” He laughed.

I quickly ran inside and found my homeroom room 203 B. I opened the sliding door and saw that everyone was already sitting in a desk except for me. I then saw my homeroom teacher.

CARICIAS TELRENN “RICHARD PLAGUE”, AGE: 47, HOMEROOM TEACHER, DEATH KNIGHT

“You must be the new transfer student! I am Professor Caricias Telrenn, your home room teacher!” Caricias was shocked when I came in. Everyone was shocked and looked at me scaredly. “Did I do something wrong?” I asked quietly.

“YEAH YOU’RE NOT A GIRL AND PROFESSOR TELRENN LIKES TO LOOK UP GIRLS SKIRTS!”

CASSANDRA STRIVEHEART “GRUMPY GIRL”, AGE: 17, 3rd YEAR STUDENT, PRIEST

Everyone in the class laughed.

“WHO SAID THAT?!” Caricias screamed. Everyone laughed again. I heard a mask huff in the corner of the room.

SILVER JADENWING “SILENT BLADE”, AGE: 18, 4th YEAR STUDENT, ELF

“GO SIT DOWN!” Caricias screamed again. I quickly ran to the only desk available next to Silver in the corner. She had snow white long hair and always wore a mask. I gasped when she looked at me.

“Now class this is the new transfer student Barry Sneakyspring. Can you tell us about yourself and what your powers are?” Caricias asked. Everyone was quiet and stared at me. I blushed.

“My parents were the first gnome demon hunters and I am a rogue.” Everyone gasped again.

“Did I say something wrong?” I gulped.

“The only other rogue at this school is Silver!” Cassandra said pointing at Silver next to me. Silver did not speak and only did another mask huff.

RING! RING! RING!

“Class is dismissed for lunch!” Caricias said. Before I could leave the classroom Caricias pulled me aside. He had a nice face and dark black hair and hung infront of his blue eyes. He looked sad.

“You can’t sit with anyone yet you need to go check in with the medical wing.” Caricias said sadly.

“WHY?” I questioned him.

“Because you are new and they want to make sure they get your health record. You will find the medical wing across the school court yard.” He left.

“Okay.” I said and left too. I walked across the court yard sadly as everyone played. I wanted to play too. There were some kids not playing though and they looked sad. I wanted to ask what was wrong but they didn’t look at me and I don’t like attention. I then saw something rattling in the bush!

“Rithule??” I asked scaredly.

“NO!” Someone screamed as they jumped out of the bush!

MASEENA FUDGEIT “BUSH GIRL”, AGE: 16, 2nd YEAR STUDENT, HUMAN

I fell back on the ground screaming and crying. Maseena looked down at me with her stone stuffed fel pocked bear Stoney.

“What’s wrong???” She said as stoney.

“You scared me! You cant do that!” I screamed.

She looked sad. I felt bad and gave her a hug.

“Its okay-“ Suddenly she spitted and screamed and dove back in the bush. She was a weird student and I decided to stay away from that bush.

I made it to the medical wing and slid open the bamboo door. Inside were two doctors a boy and a girl.

DOCTOR VIKTOR KRESNOV “THE GOOD DOCTOR, AGE: 28, DOCTOR

DOCTOR RICKTORE STEELE “CRYBABY”, AGE 24, DOCTOR

They were both beautiful. Kresnov had chocolate brown hair and a slim figure and Ricktore had long blonde hair and classes. “Kawaii…” I quietly said.

“NANI?” Ricktore noticed me and sprawled out on the table.

“Ah you must be the new transfer student Barry Sneakyspring.” Kresnov said as he rolled on his chair towards me.

“Och, do you need a check up?” Ricktore seductively spoke.

“I can do the check up!” Kresnov said as he lifted his pant leg up to show off his ankle.

“NO! ME!” Ricktore screamed as her breasts practically burst from her sexy uniform. The two continued to argue and I got scared. I hate attention. I just left and had my lunch by myself.

RING! RING! RING!

“ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS REPORT TO THE GYMNASIUM FOR A MANDATORY ASSEMBLY!” A dark voice called over the intercoms.

All the students went inside and I sat next to Silver.

“Whats the assembly for?” I asked Silver.

Maskhuff.

Suddenly she came out on stage.

FALCKO ARTURIA “HIGH INQUISITOR”, AGE: 30, PRINCIPAL

She had snow white hair and blood red eyes. She looked scary and her black trench coat blew in the wind behind her constantly. She glared at everyone and we all were quiet.

“That’s Principal Arturia sama.” Cassandra whispered in my ear.

“NANI?” I said.

“WELCOME STUDENTS TO ANOTHER YEAR AT THE BLACKWELL ACADEMY!” Falcko yelled.

Suddenly students started to cheer as if they were brainwashed,

“HURRAH! HURRAH! HURRAH!”

I did not cheer because Silver and Cassandra did not cheer. I suddenly saw Rithule outside looking into the assembly through the window. I waved at him but he did not wave back. Homeroom teacher Caricias Telrenn was suddenly on stage.

“I have a few announcements! There is a Marmot ball try out tomorrow and Roscoe Saiobot is coaching this year. Also there is a Love is in the Air party for all students soon! At the end of the year is a talent competition and finally the Grand Fighter tournament.” Caricas said happily. Falcko stole the microphone from homeroom teacher!

“THIS WILL BE THE MOST IMPORTANT GRAND FIGHTER TOURNAMENT THIS YEAR EVERYONE WILL BE PARTICIPATING! GLORY TO THE BLACKWELL ACADEMY! THERE WILL BE A MILLION GOLD PRIZE!” Falcko screamed.

Everyone cheered again. We all went outside and I asked Cassandra.

“Where do you live?”

“Oh me? I live in the dormitories here. Do you live in the dormitories here?” She asked.

“No I live alone.” I said.

“Sigoi!” Cassandra gasped. Silver mask huffed.

“You should come over sometime for food!” I said.

“I have no time. Silver and I need to practice for Marmot Ball try outs tomorrow.” She said meanly.

“Can I come?” I asked.

“No.” She said and left with Silver.

RING! RING!

School was over and I looked across the street at Rithule.

“RUFF day, heh?” He said.

“I don’t want to talk about it.’ I said as I ran home crying.

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vitalmindandbody · 6 years

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Two American Nightmares: how a dumbed-down society failed batch of a great opinion

As Clinton and Trump prepare to debate next week , noble principles are devastated in a culture where most Americans do not know what is real anymore and the dream of equal rights is just a fantasy

Every child had a pretty good shot

To get at least as far as their old man got

But something happened on the best way of that place

They threw an American pennant in our face.

Billy Joel, Allentown

Its one of the greatest fabrications of all time, and just like it says on the dollar bill novus ordo seclorum it developed an entirely new prescribe in human things. After millennia of pharaohs, lords, emperors, rulers, sultans, caesars and czars, with all their attendant gentries and locked-down social system, countries around the world was founded where birth and pedigree didnt subject so much, where by application of your flairs, vigor, labour and willingness to play by the rules, you could improve your fabric lot in living and achieve a measure of financial protection for yourself and your family. Peasants and proles could aspire to more than mere existence. Progressive!

We know it today as the American Dream. The now-obscure historian James Truslow Adams coined the period in his book The Epic of America, characterizing the American dreaming as TAGEND

a dream of a social order in which each man and each wife shall be able to attain to the fullest prominence of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position.

Adams was writing in 1931, but the daydream was there from the beginning, in Jeffersons pursuit of happiness formulation in the Declaration of Independence, happiness residing in its 18 th-century sense of succes, grow, wellbeing.

Nobody ever came to America with a starry-eyed dream of working for starvation wages. Slew of that offered in the old country, and thats precisely why we left, escaping serfdom, peonage, tenancy, indenture all different iterations of what was essentially a rigged plan, to employ it in current political verbiage that channeled the profits of our proletariat upstream to the Man. We came to America to do better, to self-assured for ourselves the liberation that economic security makes, and for millions principally white males at first, and then slowly, sputteringly, women and people of color thats the acces it worked out , nothing less than a change in the human condition.

Upward mobility is indispensable to the American Dream, the notion that people can rise from working to middle class, and middle to upper and even higher on the simulate of a( imaginary) Horatio Alger or an( actual) Andrew Carnegie. Upward mobility across castes peaked in the US in the late 19 th century. Most of the benefits of the 20 th century were achieved en masse; it wasnt so much a phenomenon of great numbers of people emerge from one class to the next as it was standards of living rising crisply for all first-class. You didnt “ve got to be” exceptional to rise. Opportunity was sufficiently broad that hard work and steadiness would do, along with implicit buy-in to the social contract, allegiance to the system continuing on the assumption that the system was basically fair.

The biggest amplifications occurred in the post-second world war period of the GI Bill, cheap higher education, strong labor unions, and a progressive imposition system. Between the late 1940 s and early 1970 s, median household income in the US redoubled. Income inequality reached historic lows. The median CEO salary was approximately 30 periods that of the lowest-paid employee, compared against todays gold-plated multiple of 370. The top tariff bracket wandered in the neighborhood of 70% to 90%. Awarded, there were far fewer billionaires in those dates. Somehow the commonwealth survived.

America is a dream of greater justice and the possibilities for the average “mens and”, if we are not able procure it, all our other achievements amount to nothing. So wrote Eleanor Roosevelt in her syndicated column of 6 January 1941, an apt lead-in to her husbands State of the Union address eventually that day in which he enumerated the four impunities essential to American republic, among them freedom from want. In his District of the Union address three years later, FDR expanded on this concept of freedom from want with its own proposal for a Second Bill of Privilege, an economic statute of rights to offset what he viewed as the growing autocracy of the modern economic tell TAGEND

This Republic had at its beginning, and grew to its present forte, under the protection of certain inalienable political rights among them the right of free speech, free press, free love As our society has grown in size and prominence, nonetheless as our industrial economy has expanded these political rights have proved inadequate to assure us equality. We have come to a clearly defined realization of the fact that true personal freedoms cannot exist without economic its safety and independence.

Political claims notwithstanding, impunity doughnuts exceptionally hollow when youre going nickel-and-dimed to death in your everyday life. The Roosevelts recognized that compensation peonage, or any plan that inclines toward subsistence level, is simply inconsistent with self-determination. Subsistence is, by definition, a confined, hopeless commonwealth; ones horizon is necessarily limited to the present epoch, to getting enough of what their own bodies must be free to make it to the next. These daylights a minimum wage employee in New York City clocking 40 hours per week( at$ 9 per hour) makes $18,720 a year, well for the purposes of the Federal Poverty Line of $21,775. Thats a scrambling, uneasy live, narrowly bounded. Close to impossible to decently feed, robe, and shelter yourself on a wage like that, much less their own families; much less buy health insurance, or save for your minors college, or are represented in any of those other good American occasions. Down at peon rank, the endeavours of joy sounds like a bad pun. Its “ve called the” American nightmare, George Carlin cracked, because you have to be asleep to believe it.

Necessitous husbands are not free humanities, said FDR in that 1944 State of the Union speech. Beings who are hungry and out of a enterprise are the stuff of which tyrannies are stir. A dire word, demonstrably genuine, and specially unsettling in 2016, a point in time when the American Dream seems most viable as nostalgia than a lived phenomenon. Income inequality, abundance distribution, mortality rates: by all the necessary measures, the average individual that Eleanor Roosevelt celebrated is subsiding. Extraordinary people continue to rise, but overall mobility is stagnant at best. If youre born poverty-stricken in Ferguson or Appalachia, chances are youre stay around that method. Ditto if your early storages include the swimming pool at the Houston Country Club or ski lessons at Deer Valley, youre likely going to keep your perch at the top of the heap.

Income inequality, gross the gaps in capital: were told daily, endlessly, that these are the necessary the effects of a free market, as if world markets was a personnel of sort on the order of weather or tides, and not the alone manmade erect that it is. In daylight of recent history, blind following of this sort of financials would seem to require a firm commitment to stupidity, but lets presume for the moment that its true, that the free market exists as a universe unto itself, as immutable in its workings as the regulations of physics. Does that universe include some ironclad regulate who are in need of inequality of opportunity? Ive yet to discover the occurrence for that, though doubtless some intrepid thinktanker could invent one out of this same free-market financials, along with aromas of genetic determinism as it relates to calibers of subject and reputation. And “it wouldve been” bogus, that case. And more than that, sinful. That we should allow for wildly divergent opportunities due to accidents of birth “ve just got to” ten-strike us as international crimes equal in savagery to child abuse or molestation.

Franklin Roosevelt:[ F] reedom is no half-and-half affair. If the ordinary citizen is ensure equal rights in the polling place, he must have equal opportunity in the market place. The proposition runs deeper than sentimentality, deeper than policy, deeper even than adherence to equality and the pursuit of pleasure that are set out in the Declaration. It cuts all the way to the nature of republic, and to the prospects for its continued existence in America. We may have democracy in its own country, wrote supreme court of the united states justice Louis Brandeis, or we may have enormous abundance concentrated in the mitts of a few, but we cant have both. Those few, in Brandeiss judgment, would inevitably use their supremacy to subvert the free will of the majority; the super-rich as a class plainly couldnt be trusted to do otherwise, a thesis thats being starkly acted out in the present period of Citizens United, Super Pacs, and truckloads of dark money.

But the lawsuit for financial equality goes beyond even equations of supremacy politics. Democracys premise remains on the idea that the collective profundity of the majority will testify right more often than its wrong. That have enough opening in the endeavours of joy, your population will develop its abilities, its intellect, its better judgment; that over duration its capacity for discernment and self-correction will be broadened. Life will improve. The pattern of your uniting will be more perfect, to acquire a word. But if a critical mass of your population is kept in peonage? All its sparkle spent in the trenches of day-to-day survival, with scant opportunity to develop the full range of its faculties? Then how much poorer future prospects for your republic will be.

Economic equality can no more be divorced from the smooth functioning of republic than the ballot. Jefferson, Brandeis, the Roosevelts all recognized this home truth. The American Dream has to be the lived world of the country, not just a moderately tale we tell ourselves.

I have always gotten much more advertisement than anybody else.

Donald Trump

Then theres that other American nightmare, the numbed-out, dumbed-down, make-believe world where much of the national consciousness resides, the sum concoction of our mighty Fantasy Industrial Complex: movies, TV, internet, texts, tweets, ad saturation, celebrity preoccupation, athletics infatuation, Amazonian sewers of porn and political bullshit, the entire invasion of media and messaging that is endeavouring to separate us from our intelligences. September 11, 2001 detonation us out of that daydream for about two minutes, but the dream is so elastic, so all-encompassing, that 9/11 was immediately absorbed into the the matrix of FIC. This exceedingly complex episode horribly direct in the result, but a swamp when it is necessary to interpretations was stripped down and binaried into a dependable fantasy narration of us against them, good versus villainy, Christian against Muslim. The week after 9/11, Susan Sontag was practically executed for pointing out that a few shreds of historical awareness might help us is how we came to this quality. For this modest suggestion , no small number of her fellow Americans bid her dead. But if wed followed her result if united done the hard work of delving down to the roots of the whole frightful happening perhaps we wouldnt still be fighting al-Qaida and its offspring 15 years later.

An 11 -year-old girl wears Trump socks at awareness-raising campaigns happening for the Republican nominee at the Trump International Hotel in Washington DC. Photo: Mike Segar/ Reuters

Heres a hypothesis, ugly, uncharitable, but returned our recent record it begs ask: the majority of cases most Americans dont just knowing that real any more. How else to interpret Trump, a billionaire on an ego trip capturing a major partys nomination for chairwoman? Another blunt-speaking billionaire tried twice for the conference of presidents in the 1990 s and went out in flames, but he made the mistake of flowing as himself, a recognizably flesh-and-blood human being, whereas Trump comes to us as the eventual animal, and indisputable maestro, of the Fantasy Industrial Complex. For much of his occupation until 2004, to be exact he harboured status in “peoples lives” as a more or less normal fame. Bigger than life, rest assured, cartoonishly grandiose, shamelessly self-promoting, and reliably objectionable, but Trump didnt become Trump until The Apprentice debuted in January 2004. The first occurrence depicted 20.7 million viewers. By likenes, Ross Perot received 19,742, 000 referendums in the 1992 general elections yes, Im likening referendum totals with Nielsen ratings but Trump retained attracting that robust 20 million week after week. The season climax that year contacted 28 million viewers, and over the coming decade, for 13 more seasons, this was how America came to know him, in that weirdly intimate behavior Tv has of delivering personality into the very middle of our lives.

It was this same Trump that 24 million viewers a record, of course tuned in to watch at the first Republican debate last year, the glowering, blustering, swaggering boardroom action flesh who established every hope of shredding the pols. One speculates if Trump would have ever been Trump if there hadnt been a JR Ewing to pave the way, to show just how dear and real a dealmaking Tv rascal could be to our centers. Trumps performance on that night did not sadden , nor through all the debates in the long marching that followed, and if his regard for the truth has proved more erratic even than that of professional politicians, we should expect as much. In the realm of the Fantasy Industrial Complex, actuality happens on a slipping scale. The truism is just another possibility.

I speak the password primeval.

I would give the signal of democracy ;P TAGEND

By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

In nine days Trump and Hillary will take the stage for their first face-to-face conversation. There is likely to be blood. The bayonets are going to be out, and the ratings are bound to be, need it be said, yuge. The American Dream will no doubt be invoked from both podiums, for what true-blue patriot was ever against the American Dream? And hitherto for the past 30 years the Democratic campaigner has worked comfortably within “states parties ” foundation thats battered the working and middle classes down to the bone. The brand-new Democrat of the Clinton era are always strong for political rights, as long as they dont disturbed corporate Americas bottom line. Strong for racial and gender equality, strong for LGBT privileges( though that took season ). Meanwhile this same Democratic establishment connected with the GOP to push a market- and finance-driven economic ordering that enriches the already rich and leaves the rest of us sucking wind.

Thats the very real feeling Trump is speaking to , no fantasy there. Bernie as well; small-scale wonder their constituencies overlapped, though Trumps claimed devotion to the common man stumbles over even the simplest proofs. On whether to raise the federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour, Trumps moral compass has invented from an shown no( wages are already too high ), to imply yes( wages are too low ), to weasel word( leave it up to the states ), to yes and no in the same sigh( I would leave it and conjure it somewhat ), and, eventually, when pressed by Bill OReilly in July, to yes-but( promote it to $10, but its still best left to the states ). All this from presidential candidates whos firmly in favor of abolishing the estate tax, to the great benefit of heirs of multimillionaires and nothing at all to the vast majority of us.

Meanwhile, the Fantasy Industrial Complex is doing just fine such elections season, thank you. Communicating at a Morgan Stanley investors seminar in March, one of the commanders of the FIC, Leslie Moonves, the chief executive of CBS and a person whose 2015 compensation totaled $56.8 m, had this to say about the Trump campaign. It may not be good for America, but its damn good for CBS. The coin rolling in and this is fun this[ is] going to be a very good year for us. Sorry. Its a cruel stuff to say. But delivering it on, Donald. Keep going.